


Things We Can't Forget

by lowlights



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Confrontations, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Heavy Angst, Hogwarts Hospital Wing, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Quidditch, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Yule Ball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:15:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 75
Words: 211,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26273203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowlights/pseuds/lowlights
Summary: You and Draco have always hated each other. You're somehow always getting into arguments with him, but in third year, things start to change.Suddenly, he's grabbing your robes, showing up in your room, getting mad at you for hanging out with other guys - and telling you to forget about everything that's happened between you.But there are some things you can't forget.
Relationships: Dean Thomas/Reader, Draco Malfoy/Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy/Reader
Comments: 1027
Kudos: 1780





	1. The Hogwarts Express

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting in 3rd year but will follow to the end of the series!  
> I based most of the events off the books but because y/n isn't close with the golden trio, much of the stuff they're doing is omitted.
> 
> Also! I know that the characters are supposed to be 13 in 3rd year, 14 in 4th year, etc. but I'm going to write them as being older. Though the characters' ages are never expressly mentioned in the story, I wanted to be able to explore more mature stuff esp because its a slow burn but didn't want to be writing about 14 year olds hooking up!
> 
> last thing - there is explicit sexual content in this fic! I don't tag it at the beginning of chapters because I don't want to ruin the surprise of it/foreshadow parts of the story so consider this a blanket warning, but if you want to skip sexual parts, it's pretty clear when they're about to take place and end so you should be able to!

Despite the looming threat of escaped convict Sirius Black, the fact that your father had told you the dementors were going to be at Hogwarts this year, and all the conflict with the Chamber last year, the sight of the Hogwarts Express pulling into Platform 9 ¾ still made you feel as much joy and anticipation as it had the first time you ever saw it. 

Saying goodbye to your parents was always hard, if only because your mom broke down in tears every single time, but you managed to pry yourself out of her grip. 

“Don’t forget to write!” She called out to you from the platform, and you turned around to wave one more time before you got on the train. 

Not even a minute after you climbed onboard, Sadie and Sebastian were barreling down the corridor towards you, enveloping you in hugs. It had been a long summer without them - Tracey, Sebastian, and Sadie had written to you, but you doubted Simon had even picked up a pen since last term. 

You brought out your new Nimbus 2001, a parting gift from your father, and Sebastian insisted on inspecting every inch of it while you and Sadie got to talking about your summers. 

Sadie was a half-blood, so she lived a pretty non-magical life in the summer. She had gone to a muggle summer camp this year, which was fascinating, and she was telling you and Sebastian about canoes and cabins when you heard someone clearing their throat behind you. 

You turned and saw Draco Malfoy. 

Draco was one of the people you hated the most at Hogwarts. He and his lackeys seemed to be the face of Slytherin house as far as the rest of the school was concerned. 

Things had gotten so bad last year with the Chamber of Secrets that you had been reluctant to put on your Slytherin robes and walk the hallways. Slytherin was supposed to be about fierce loyalty to your friends, ambition and determination, and a willingness to bend the rules. Last year, and even first year, really, it had become about prejudice against muggles - against anyone who wasn't pure-blood. 

You, Simon, Sebastian, Sadie, and Tracey were all Slytherins, and all good people as far as you were concerned. As far as the rest of the school was concerned, though, anyone with green lining on their robes was automatically a bully, and a horrible person at that. 

You figured the reason for this must have something to do with Draco Malfoy. 

Hence, the reason why you hated him. 

You had a couple of friends outside Slytherin house, though, mostly from playing pickup Quidditch games on the weekend. You had hit it off quite easily with Cedric Diggory, and you often hung out with him even off the pitch. 

It was harder to be friends with Gryffindors - Draco had seen to that - but you and Dean Thomas had been on the same team so many times in pickup Quidditch games that it had become a running joke between you. Dean was not the best on a broom, and was known for dropping the Quaffle, but he was a surprisingly good Beater and you had never been hit while he was playing. 

Draco cleared his throat again. 

“One would think that you three could have this conversation in your own compartment. You’re blocking the corridor.”

Tracey scoffed. “There’s plenty of space to move around us, Draco. No need to cause a scene.”

Draco chuckled meanly at that. “ _I’m_ the one causing a scene? What pathetic excuses for Slytherins the three of you are.”

Sebastian looked down. His mother and father would be angry if he got into a fight with Draco again - the Malfoys and the Daleys worked closely at the Ministry. Tracey rolled her eyes and walked away, and Sebastian turned heel and followed, leaving only you and Draco left in the corridor.

He raised his eyebrows at you, silently asking why you weren’t following your friends.

“Must you be such a dick all the time?” you asked, unable to think of anything else to properly communicate how you felt about him. Your question didn’t seem to bother him at all.

“Oh, run along with your friends.”  
“Such a git,” you muttered, and he grinned in response.  
“Yes,” he said, his smile turning into more of a sneer, “you’ve made your thoughts on me very clear over the years."

Not wanting to waste any more time on this conversation, you turned and walked away. You pulled open the door to your compartment. Sebastian and Tracey were continuing the conversation from earlier, and Simon was sleeping, head leaning on the window. 

“How long has he been out?” you asked, motioning towards Simon, and Sadie laughed.  
“He was the first one of us on the train, and I haven’t seen him awake yet," she replied.

“Anyways,” Sebastian said, “you stayed to talk to Malfoy?”  
“Only telling him how much of a git he is,” you replied, swinging into your seat next to him. 

As the train was about to take off from the platform, an out-of-breath Tracey yanked open the doors to your compartment and fell into her seat next to Simon. You all hugged her and started regaling the details of your summers to each other, then quickly began placing bets on when Simon would wake up. 

“When the trolley comes,” you said knowingly, and everyone laughed. 

Sure enough, the smell of chocolate frogs rose Simon from his slumber, and he was the first one out of the compartment, Sickles at the ready. Of course, as always, he shared with the rest of you. 

Halfway through the train ride, just as you were about to take a nap yourself, the train slowed to a stop. 

“What’s going on?” Simon asked, jerking awake, thinking he had missed some sort of announcement, but nobody else knew what was happening either. The train had never stopped before. You had never even heard of it happening. 

All at once, the air seemed cold. The hairs on your arm stood up, and the sky, once a brilliant blue, grew darker and darker. 

The revelry and camaraderie of seeing your friends for the first time all summer began to drain out of you, replaced by a sort of hollow feeling of sadness. It was a horrible feeling, a weight on your shoulders. Faintly, you heard a girl scream something - it sounded like Granger. 

After what felt like hours of cold, the sky brightened again and the air warmed up. You saw them as they left the train - dementors. Your father had told you that the Ministry was putting them at Hogwarts to try to catch Sirius Black, but you hadn’t thought that you would ever come across one yourself. 

The train sped up again, and you looked around the cabin at your friends. Every one of them, even drowsy Simon, stared back at you with wide eyes.  
__________________________________ 

The feast had begun, and Draco’s voice echoed up and down the table, shouting to the rooftops that Harry Potter had fainted on the train.

It sounded like just the sort of thing that Draco would make up, but even if it was true, you could see why. The sensation of the dementors was enough to make anyone feel weak, and you couldn’t imagine what it would be like for Harry, who had probably experienced more fear than Draco could even imagine.

You wanted to yell down the table at him and tell him so, but all his lackeys were hanging off his every word, and even the older students were laughing. It probably wouldn’t do any good.

You wolfed down some food, tuning Draco out and taking in the surroundings of the Great Hall: The candles floating above, the myriad conversations, the first years, freshly sorted and looking around at each other with shy interest. 

You took a sip of your pumpkin juice, rich and warm, and smiled across the table at Sebastian. It was truly magical being back here. 

As the feast ended and the prefects started to direct everyone to their respective common rooms, you told your friends you would meet up with them later, and snuck off to go say hi to Cedric and Meg. 

Meg had had the same idea, and you met her halfway between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables. You quickly compared your schedules and saw that you had Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts together, and promised to meet up in the library some time soon to get started on work. 

Your conversation with Cedric was much briefer - Hufflepuff was already almost out of the Great Hall - but he stopped to ask you about every detail of your new Nimbus 2001 and told you that he would catch up with you later. 

You both turned to find with your houses, and you endured a little teasing from Sadie and Tracey once you did. 

“Talking to a fifth year, (Y/N), how bold!” Sadie said.  
“You know it’s not like that, he likes Cho Chang.” You replied.

Sadie rolled her eyes at that. “How boring, really.”  
You smiled back. 

The Slytherin common room was alive with candles, laughter, and a roaring fire. Unfortunately, it was also alive with Draco Malfoy’s stunning and dramatic reenactment of Harry fainting on the train. 

Pansy Parkinson sat on the couch indignantly, laughing cruelly as Draco imitated Harry being saved by Granger, hanging off his every word. 

“Shut up, Malfoy,” you said as you passed through the common room. 

A couple ‘ooh’s went up from the crowd. 

“Oh, would you look at that,” he sneered, “Potter’s gone and got another girl to protect him.”

You rolled your eyes, turning around. “I’m not protecting Potter, Malfoy. I don’t care about Potter. You’re the one making a fool of yourself.”

“I’m not the one who fainted on the train,” he fired back.  
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” you countered, “but I wasn't under the impression that you witnessed your parents deaths when you were a child. Something tells me that the dementors may affect him a bit differently.”  
“Or maybe,” Malfoy said, pausing for dramatic effect, “he’s just a bit of a girl.”

The crowd surrounding him laughed at that, and you rolled your eyes and kept walking. You should’ve known better than to challenge him around his lackeys - there was really no winning there. 

You walked up the stairs to your room. You and Tracey had shared last year, so this year she was sharing with Sadie, meaning that you had a room to yourself. It was just above the surface of the lake, so you had a window that you could see all of the grounds out of. 

You looked out, seeing the smoke billowing out of Hagrid’s hut, the empty (but not for long) Quidditch pitch, all the lights in Gryffindor tower. 

You changed out of your robes and put on your pajamas, then went and grabbed Tracey and Sadie to walk down to the boys dorms. 

Draco was still entertaining his groupies in the common room. He caught your eye as you walked past and stopped telling his story for a second, causing a couple other students sitting on the couch to turn and see what he was looking at. You kept your head down and walked even more quickly towards the boys’ room. 

It was so good to have the five of you back together that you could’ve burst. You talked for hours about Sadie's summer expeditions, Sebastian’s plans to explore the castle, Tracey's class schedule, and Simon’s plans to hook up with Daphne Greengrass. 

Tracey and Sadie left before you, both early sleepers, and you hung around a while longer as Sebastian talked about what his older brother had told him about Divination and Simon drifted off. 

By the time you left the boys’ room, the noise in the common room had died. The candles were out, and the only light came from the fire, where a couple girls were sitting. Your eye was immediately drawn to Draco, though, who was sitting on one of the couches. 

You squinted to make out what he was doing in the dark, then felt your face get hot when you saw him break away from a girl. Oh. 

As your eyes adjusted to the light, you saw his hand in her hair, and he leaned in to whisper something to her. She laughed unpleasantly. You could recognize that laugh anywhere - Pansy Parkinson. Well. Maybe her relentless pursuit of him had finally paid off.

He leaned back into her. Your stomach twisted up, and you started walking again - why had you even stopped? 

As you reached the end of the stairs, you stole a look back at them just as they broke apart. Draco leaned in to whisper something again, meaning he was facing you directly. You tried to look away, but he made eye contact with you before you could. He whispered something in Pansy’s ear, and she laughed again. He smirked, his eyes never leaving yours. 

You felt like your feet were attached to the ground. He stared at you for a couple more seconds, then kissed her again, this time more aggressively. 

You hurried back upstairs toward your room, shut the door, and flopped onto your bed.

It’s just like Draco, really, you thought, to be doing… that… in the common room of all places. It was almost as if he wanted everyone to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!


	2. The Hospital Wing

It was the nicest weather you had had so far. You and Simon were walking down from the castle to Hagrid’s hut for the first Care of Magical Creatures class. You’d been in Charms that morning, and Flitwick had already assigned an incredible amount of homework. You couldn’t imagine what Snape had in store - but perhaps he would take it easy on the Slytherins, as he was sometimes apt to do. 

You and Simon were the last ones to arrive. Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy were standing off to the side, looking their usual shade of holier-than-thou. Potter, Weasley, and Granger were talking amongst themselves jovially, and Granger’s face lit up in a laugh at something Harry said. 

You briefly wondered where Hagrid was, but he soon emerged into the clearing with a giant horse behind him. 

Except - no, it wasn't a horse. It had wings. But it wasn't a bird. It was a -

“Hippogriff,” Hagrid answered. It looked beautiful.

The students stared at the majestic beast as it preened and bowed its head to Hagrid. The stupor was broken when Crabbe got bit by his copy of The Monster Book of Monsters. 

You had shut yours with a belt to prevent it from attacking, and as you looked around you saw that many students had done the same. 

Hagrid explained that you were supposed to stroke the binding. Upon doing so, yours relaxed. 

“I figured that out ages ago,” Simon yawned, and you looked at him in marvel.  
“And you just decided not to tell anyone?”  
He grinned. “Thought you’d all be as smart as me, I guess.”

Hagrid looked a little crestfallen that nobody had figured it out, and Granger spoke up in his defense. “I think they’re funny,” she said. 

Perhaps funny was the wrong word - the book had bitten you quite harshly when you first got it before you had strapped it closed. 

“Oh, terribly funny. Really witty,” Draco said, his voice thick with sarcasm. “God, this place has gone to the dogs. Wait until my father hears about this.”

Harry turned to tell him to shut up, but he just smirked and took a bite out of his apple. 

How like Draco, to throw his father’s name around like that. You supposed that he thought it made him seem formidable, but to you it seemed more like he needed his father to fight his battles for him. 

Harry went to pet the Hippogriff first, which was named Buckbeak. Hagrid led him through it slowly. Finally, Buckbeak bowed to Harry. Hagrid exclaimed in excitement and you smiled.

“Do you think you could do that?” You asked Simon, who shrugged. By the time you looked back at the hippogriff, Harry was on his back, and all at once it took off in the sky. Everyone craned their necks to watch him circle through the sky. 

You heard Draco scoff in the corner. “Really,” he said to Pansy, “if Harry Potter can do that, anyone can.”

“He better hope there’s no dementors around, otherwise he might just faint and fall off,” Pansy answered cruelly. 

Despite wanting to inform Pansy that Potter is leagues better than she’ll ever be at magic, you kept your mouth shut. 

“What a shame. The famous Harry Potter, falling to his death. I shudder to think of it.”

Pansy began to speak, but you cut her off with a quick “Oh, be quiet.”

“Sorry, are you speaking to me?” She asked you, nose wrinkled up in disgust.  
“Of course I’m speaking to you!” You shot back, trying to be quiet so as not to attract the attention of other students, “I don’t think anyone asked for your commentary.”

Pansy blinked quickly, turning to Draco with eyebrows raised. “Draco,” she hissed.  
He looked at you in disgust. “I suggest you stay out of this,” he said bitingly.

You gave him the middle finger, and heard Simon chuckle next to you. 

Just then, Harry landed, and Buckbeak bent down to let him off.

“Anyone else?” Hagrid asked. You considered stepping forward yourself, but Draco beat you to the punch, throwing down his apple core with a flourish. 

“I reckon I’ll do it,” he said.  
You rolled your eyes and turned to Simon. “This ought to be good,” he said.

Draco approached Buckbeak with none of the gentle wariness that Harry had. 

“Careful, now,” Hagrid warned, trying to tell Draco how to go about it, but, of course, Draco ignored him, walking with a purpose up to Buckbeak. 

Buckbeak turned and reared up, his talons scratching at Draco’s robes. He fell, and Hagrid stepped in front of him, calming Buckbeak down. 

Pansy screamed in horror, and Draco groaned from the ground. “I think it’s killed me!” He said, prompting you to roll your eyes. What a drama queen. It was his own fault. 

To your surprise, Granger looked horrified too. She was probably more worried for Hagrid’s tenure as a teacher than Malfoy’s injury, but you couldn’t really fault her for that.

“Hagrid,” she called out, “he needs to go to the hospital wing!”  
“Right,” he murmured, “I’ll take him. I’m the teacher.”

He went to pick Draco up off the ground, but Hermione stepped in again, “You can’t, sir - you still have to teach the lesson.”

Hagrid nodded, and Pansy stepped forward. “I’ll take him, of course,” she said, sneering, her cheeks wet with dramatic tears. Hagrid surveyed her, then nodded. She ran forward, helping Draco up from the ground and loudly inquiring about his well-being. He murmured an answer in a weak voice, and she breathed in hysterically, rounding on Hagrid and dropping Draco unceremoniously back to the ground, where he landed with a grunt.

“He’s grievously injured! The Ministry will hear about this!” She said, tears dripping down her cheeks anew. “I can’t bear to look at him like this.”

Hagrid blinked. “Do you need someone else to take ‘im?” He asked.  
“What part of 'I can’t bear to look at him' do you not understand?!” Pansy shouted back.

Wow, you thought, what a keeper Draco’s found.

“They deserve each other, don’t they,” Simon stage-whispered.

Hagrid’s eyes scanned the crowd, looking for someone else to take Draco up to the hospital wing. He passed Crabbe and Goyle and landed on you. 

“(Y/N), would you take Draco up?” He asked. 

You wanted to say no, but you could see why you were the obvious choice - you weren’t one of Draco’s lackeys but you were still in his house. You were tempted to pass the duty off to Simon, but Hagrid was looking at you so desperately that you just nodded.

Pansy huffed in outrage, but even she wouldn’t directly go against a teacher’s wish. She stomped off to rejoin Crabbe and Goyle, and you stepped forward, walking toward Draco. You felt like everyone’s eyes were on you as you walked up to where Draco was lying on the ground, picking him up.

“Ow,” he groaned as you stood him up.  
“It’s your arm, not your leg, Draco. I don’t see why you can’t walk.”

You heard Weasley chuckle behind you at that. Draco scowled at you. You glanced at his arm and saw the white button-up that he was wearing under his robes was stained red where Buckbeak had scratched him. 

Looking down so as to not see the eyes on you, you led Draco out of the clearing and up towards the castle. You didn’t speak to each other the whole way up. You made eye contact with him as you walked through the hallways, and rolled your eyes as he winced.

“You’re being dramatic, Malfoy, honestly.”

He looked back at you with contempt. “You know, you’re the last person I would have chosen to walk me back up.”  
“Then why didn’t you say something when Hagrid asked me?” You fired back, angry now.  
“Wasn't thinking straight,” he said. 

You scoff at that. “Unbelievable, honestly. You know, that was your own fault. If you hadn’t been so - so -”

He stopped short in the hallway and reached out with his uninjured arm, grabbing yours. His eyes flickered with anger. 

“So what?” He said.  
“So idiotic, so cocky, so conceited! So everything!”  
“Is that what you think?”  
“That’s what I know!”  
“Well, that’s typical of you, isn’t it.” He said in a low voice. 

You blinked, caught off guard.

“What does that mean?” You asked, noticing absentmindedly that his hand was still holding the sleeve of your robe in a fist. 

“Thinking the worst of me.”  
“How could I not when that’s how you act?”  
“You just -” he cut himself off, throwing your sleeve down forcefully and turning his back to you.

You felt anger curl in your stomach. He wasn't even hurt, not really, and yet there you were missing a lesson to take him to the hospital wing, where he would probably report Hagrid to the Ministry because of his own mistake. 

“You’re despicable,” you finally said, and he whipped around to face you again.  
“And you’re weak! You and your friends are pathetic!”  
“I’m pathetic?! Malfoy, look at yourself!”

He took a step towards you so that you were forced to look up in order to make eye contact with him. 

“Go back down there, then, if you’re so loathe to be around me,” he growled.  
“And let you tell everyone I left you? I’d get in trouble.” You returned.  
“I won’t tell.”

Part of you wanted to leave, but your eyes flickered down to the cut on his arm, which was worse than you had thought - it had begun dripping blood onto the castle floor. 

“I don’t trust you,” you said, “let’s go.”

His face had a strange expression on it for a second, but it quickly turned into one you knew well - disgust. He turned away and began walking faster, and you had to run a couple steps to catch up to him.

When you reached the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey took over, hustling Draco into a room and leaving you out in the hallway alone. You weren’t sure whether you were allowed to leave, so you just stood in the hall waiting for her to come back again.

After half an hour, she did. 

“Can I go?” You asked, and she looked up at you in surprise.

“Oh good, I was wondering if someone brought Mr. Malfoy up. If you could just watch him for a little while - I have a couple students who just came up from Herbology - I don’t know why Sprout has the fifth years working with Tentaculas…” She trailed off, then shook her head slightly. “Rambling again. He’s right through there, I just need an hour or so.”

She hustled out of the hallway before you could express to her your wish to not be around Malfoy at all - especially not for an hour.

Not wanting to incur the wrath of the only real healer in the castle, though, you turned and walked through the door she had vaguely gestured to. 

Malfoy was the only one in the row of beds. His robes hung next to him, ripped where Buckbeak had clawed through. Pomfrey had taken off his button-down in order to bandage his forearm, so he lay on the bed wearing only a pair of perfectly-fitting navy khakis.

Mercifully, he was asleep. You sat tentatively on the chair next to his bed, staring down at the cut on his arm. There were a couple spots of red blood already leaking through the bandages. Your eyes wandered up his arm and to his bare chest.

For some reason, they lingered there. Then you snapped out of it and stared at his face. To your horror, his eyes were open, staring at you. When you made eye contact, they hardened.

“Just having a look?” He said, a typical Malfoy jape, but his tone wasn't sarcastic or jovial at all. It was hard, almost accusatory. 

You weren’t quite sure what to say, so you elected to say nothing.

“Why are you here?” He asked, his voice still cruel.  
“Pomfrey told me to wait with you.”  
“I don’t want you here,” he said, turning away from you, “Leave.”

This time, you don’t fight it. You stand up and walk out of the room. You turn around in the doorway, maybe to say something mean, but he looks so small lying alone in his bed, back to you, that you don’t say anything at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you all enjoyed, thanks for reading!


	3. Honeysweets and Crystal Balls

It was the first Hogsmeade trip of the year, and you were buzzing with excitement. You, Tracey, Sadie, and Sebastian had all gotten up early to plan out your trip. You had woken up a reluctant Simon later, and, after a while of hard convincing, he consented to come with you all and have a look in Dervish and Banges. 

All the third year walked down in a big group, and you noticed that Granger and Weasley were missing Potter. You briefly wondered why, but you were quickly distracted by Zonkos. You and Sebastian peeled off to go inside, Simon went on to Dervish and Banges, and Tracey and Sadie told you they would meet you at the Three Broomsticks. 

You and Sebastian prowled the aisles, stocking up. 

“Might have to use this next time we need to wake Simon up,” Sebastian said with a grin, holding up a baggie of suspicious-looking green powder. 

As you were paying, Simon walked into the store with a broomstick maintenance kit high above his head. 

Sebastian laughed. “You don’t even fly, Simon.”  
“No, but you wouldn’t believe the deal I got on it,” Simon replied.  
“You could give it to me,” you suggested, but Simon shook his finger.  
“I could sell it to you,” he corrected, “for a profit.”

You laughed. It’s what you get, really, for being friends with Slytherins. 

You popped out on the street and caught sight of Cedric and Cho coming out of Madam Puddifoot’s. Waving Sebastian on, you went to catch up with them. 

You gave Cedric a hug and Cho a nod. You would never be outwardly mean to her - not when Cedric, who was your friend, so obviously liked her - but you couldn’t exactly bring yourself to be friendly to her, either. She just had an air of nothingness around her.

She was, however, a good Quidditch player - the Ravenclaw seeker, no less. You chatted with them for a while about the upcoming interhouse Quidditch tournament. Both seemed convinced that their team would take home the cup.

“No way,” you smiled, “Slytherin’s on a seven year winning streak.”

Cedric suggested having a pickup game before the first official match, and you agreed, looking forward to getting on the Nimbus 2001 for the first time. 

You waved goodbye to them and went to join the rest of your group at the Three Broomsticks. Tracey and Sadie were almost done with their mugs of butterbeer, and Sebastian had ordered one for you already. 

You sat for a while, talking about classes and the latest gossip about the Gryffindor fourth years. Finally, you all got up and went to the door. You were the last one out, struggling to find your left coat sleeve, when you heard someone say your name. 

You looked up and saw that Dean Thomas was holding the door for you. 

You smiled at him. “Hey, Dean.”

He wasn't prepared to let you go so quickly, though, and swung the door shut so that you were forced to stay inside. 

“I would ask you to grab a butterbeer with me,” he said, “but it looks like you’ve already done that.”

You nodded, searching his features for what felt like the first time. He was more attractive than you’d realized, especially when he smiled. You smiled back at him. 

“Next time, though?” He asked.  
“Next time.” You agreed, “see you on the pitch.”

“Oh, I think I’ll see you before then,” he winked, and you laughed. “Have you ever been up to Gryffindor tower?”

“Yes,” you replied sheepishly, “I snuck up there last year.”  
“How?” Dean asked, sounding shocked with a side of impressed.  
“I’m a Slytherin, Dean, I have my ways.”  
“Also noted. Maybe I’ll bring you up there legally?”  
“You might have to.”  
“Alright, I’ll let you go then,” he said, and stepped aside so you could walk through the door. 

Sadie, Simon, Tracey, and Sebastian met you on the street with raised eyebrows.

“So,” you said, “you all saw that?”

Sadie looked over at Simon with puppy dog eyes. “Have you ever been up to Gryffindor tower?” She asked.  
Simon batted his eyelashes in response. “Oh, I’ve definitely been up to Gryffindor tower. But I don’t mind going there legally.”

You laughed at their reenactment. “So you heard it all too?”  
“Yes,” Simon said, “and we agreed that you could do much worse.”

“Well, you could also do much better,” Sadie countered, then, when you shot her a look, “kidding! I’m kidding, of course.”

You all walked back up the path to get back to the castle, but you got distracted by the absolutely appetizing display in the window of Honeydukes. 

“Go on without me,” you told your friends, “I’ll just be a second.”  
“Get me something,” Simon made you promise.

The inside of Honeydukes smelled divine, and you walked up and down the aisles reverently, finally picking up the last packet of honeysweets and some homemade fudge for Simon. You were standing in front of the register, about to pay, when you heard Draco’s voice call out to you.

“(Y/L/N),” he said, and you turned around to face him with an eye roll. 

“What, Draco.”  
“You took the last bit of honeysweets.”

You raised your eyebrows. “And you care about that… why?”

“I want them,” he said simply.  
“Then wait ‘til they restock,” you replied.  
“I told Pansy I’d get her some. They’re her favorites.”

You almost laughed out loud then. Did he really think that you'd give up anything for Pansy?

“Now I’m definitely not giving them to you.”  
“So you might have if they were just for me?” He smirked as he said it.

You were talking to a very different Malfoy than the one in the hospital wing. He seemed to have gone back to his normal, cruel, sarcastic self. Just as well, really. 

“Of course I wouldn’t.” 

You turned around to pay for the candy, determined not to pay him even an ounce more attention. Once you finished paying, you turned around.

Oh. He was much closer to you now. Inches away from touching you. Your eyes were positioned to stare directly at his collarbone, and you took a step back instinctively, knocking into the counter. 

Draco chuckled. “Sorry about that,” he whispered, and you rolled your eyes back at him.

You checked out quickly, then shoulder checked him as you walked by, delighting in the small noise of surprise he let out.

As you opened the door, you felt a strong grip on your shoulder, pulling you back inside. You turned around, surprised to see Draco. He didn’t look angry, just slightly amused.

“Careful doing that,” he said, smirking, “you wouldn't want to hurt my injured arm.”

Then he let you go. Your stomach twisted. You stood there, staring at each other, for a couple seconds. Then you turned around again and hurried down the road to try to catch up with your friends.

___________________________________

You, Sebastian, and Tracey made your way up into the Divination tower. You had it this morning with Gryffindor, which, speaking honestly, was a recipe for disaster. 

You and Sebastian sat down at one of the little tables, Tracey and Sadie next to you. 

“Morning, Professor,” Sebastian put on his best charming grin.  
Tracey rolled her eyes. “Only Sebastian would put it on for Trelawney.”  
Sebastian pushed her shoulder playfully. “I’m not putting it on, I’m just being charming.”

You started to prepare your crystal balls, and Sebastian leans over the table. “Warning you now,” he muttered, “Probably going to skip class tomorrow.”

You chuckled. Simon and Divination did not mix very well. According to Trelawney, he did not have a very powerful aura. 

“Now that everybody is here,” Trelawney began, “Well, except Jackson of course - he’s dropped his books down the stairs and will end up skipping my class...”

A few students murmured at each other in wonder, but you and Sebastian just exchanged a disdainful look. 

“Scratch that. _Definitely_ skipping tomorrow,” he whispered as Trelawney continued.

“We’ll start reading the omens that will appear in your crystal balls. Start by placing your palms on the glass, and leave them there until you feel a magical warmth.”

“A magical warmth? You have to be kidding me!” Sadie hissed. “Of course the crystal ball’s gonna heat up if you have your hands on it… it’s called body warmth.”

You shrugged. You weren’t entirely sure what body warmth was, anyway. Sadie's mum was a witch, but her dad was a muggle, so she knew far more about muggle science than you.

Five minutes passed quickly, and you took your hands off the crystal to see that smoke had indeed started to swirl inside it. 

“Alright (Y/N), have a crack at it,” Sebastian grinned.

You rolled your eyes and glanced at the smoke for a half second before speaking. “You’re gonna skip Ancient Runes next period to hook up with Anna Giovanni in the fourth floor broom closet.”

Sebastian chuckled. “How do you know about that?”

“Oh please, Sebastian. I’m your best friend and a Slytherin - I know every detail of your life.” You paused, considering, then resumed talking with a sardonic smile. “Can’t say I’m special for knowing this one, though - the whole school’s been buzzing about it. Surprised the Daily Prophet hasn’t jumped on the story yet.”

“Shut up,” Sebastian grinned. 

“I’ve had a premonition that you two aren’t reading the signals correctly,” Trelawney seemed to appear out of nowhere, making you jump and then curse under your breath. 

“Sebastian, would you allow me to have a look at your crystal ball?” She asked, voice high and shrill.  
“Sure, I guess.”

Trelawney’s delicate, long-fingered hands reached down and picked up the glass ball from the cushion. She turned it over slowly, making humming noises in the back of her throat. 

Sebastian yawned exaggeratedly. 

“How very strange…” she mumbled after a little while.

With a start, Professor Trelawney gasped, her eyes growing impossibly large, and dropped the crystal ball to the floor. It didn’t shatter, but the commotion drew both Slytherin and Gryffindor eyes to their table. 

“Mr. Daley… I’m afraid that you will have a very dark trial in your future!”

You snorted, then scribbled a note to Sebastian in your _Unfogging the Inner Eye_ textbook. 

“Darkness = inside of the fourth floor broom closet”

Despite his best efforts to hold it in, Sebastian choked out a peal of laughter. Trelawney stared at him unblinkingly.

“Sorry, Professor. I have a cough.”

You raised your eyebrows, laughing silently behind Trelawney’s back. Maybe Trelawney did have some sort of psychic power, though, because she turned around and caught you doubled over.

Then, to make matters worse, she grabbed your textbook and read the note you had scribbled inside. You sighed in anticipation - the fourth floor broom closet, as it seemed, was finally receiving its fifteen minutes of fame.

Needless to say, Trelawney stalked to the front of the room immediately, then turned to make a dramatic announcement that the current pairings were disrupting the divinatory energy of the tower. 

Sebastian was repartnered immediately with Lavender Brown. You smiled to yourself - if there was anyone Sebastian would choose not to be partnered with, it would be her. 

You briefly wondered how instrumental passing Divination would be to your future. Not very, you hoped - you couldn’t exactly tell the future, but you predicted it would include a lot of skipping Trelawney’s lectures.

Much to your horror, though, Trelawney repartnered you with none other than Draco Malfoy.

Draco smirked as you sat down at his table. His crystal ball smoked ominously on the cushion between you. You looked up at the ceiling, determined not to interact with him. 

“(Y/L/N)...” He said, and you looked down, raising your eyebrows in response.  
“We’re supposed to be reading the crystal balls,” he smirked at you.

You sighed. This must be the first time Draco had felt the need to try in Divination.

“Go on, then,” you said, daring Draco to find anything at all in the crystal ball. 

He didn’t say a word, eyes flicking down passively to rest on the smoke inside. You let your eyes flicker around the room, resting on Tracey, who was shaking her crystal ball around in hopes of finding anything within.

“I see what looks like… a bird.”  
“Do you?” You asked in a bored tone.

Draco broke out into a grin. “Of course not,” he said back. “Trelawney was behind us.”

“So you made that up?”  
“Don’t tell me you don’t make stuff up in here all the time.”  
“No, I do,” you replied, “but yours sounded pretty good.”

Draco grinned again. “She’s coming back this way. Pretend to be telling my future, then.”

You snapped into action, staring intently at the crystal ball, in which you saw only smoke. You could hear Trelawney’s footsteps behind you, and, after getting in trouble earlier, it crossed your mind that you should try to at least make up something believable. 

“You will… see your greatest fears realized,” you mustered - which was weak, even for you. In fact, Sebastian had used that same fake prediction on you last week. 

Trelawney stopped by your table as expected. “Very interesting vision, (Y/N). Could you possibly expand on that? What exactly are you seeing in the ball?”

Absolutely. Fucking. Nothing.

So you improvised again, and, if anything, it was even worse than the first time.

“I’m seeing a - well, it’s sort of a - flower…” You grimaced at your own words. You could picture Sebastian two tables behind you - he was probably in absolute fits watching you stumbling through this. 

“Does that mean anything to you, Draco?” Trelawney asked, probably eager for an excuse to discipline you for falsifying predictions.

Instead, Draco nodded easily. “Yes, Professor - actually, my mother loves flowers.”

Trelawney’s need to humiliate you immediately gave way to a need to waffle on about what this could mean.

“Your greatest fears realized… how very interesting. Perhaps your greatest fear has something to do with your mother,” she landed on, and, for the first time, you were incredibly grateful for the ease with which Trelawney was able to jump to conclusions.

Draco cast his eyes to the ground for a moment, then looked up with a genuine sadness in his eyes. “Perhaps,” he replied.

“Your greatest fears realized…” Trelawney mused to herself, then stepped away from your table, continuing to make her rounds of the classroom.

As soon as she turned her back to you, Draco’s eyes drained of all sadness and he returned to grinning.

“Well, you’re not too quick on your feet.” Draco said, but his voice sounded more playful than mean, “for a Slytherin, I mean.”  
“It usually takes me more than ten seconds to come up with a believable lie,” you retorted, but you kept your tone light too. 

Draco chuckled. “You know something? I think -”

Trelawney cut Draco off with a rambling announcement about ending class early so that she could have the space required to process the spiritual energy in the tower. Or something like that, anyway.

Sebastian caught up with you in the hallway outside. You made light fun of him for flirting with anything with a pulse - “Lavender Brown, really?”

“She said I was deplorable, if it makes you feel any better,” he grinned back at you.

You parted ways, then - Sebastian going to Ancient Runes (or going to the fourth floor to hook up with Anna, you really couldn’t say). You would see him later tonight, but for now you and Tracey had your study group, and you were meeting her in the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!


	4. The Thing With Neville

You stood at the front of the stands, cheering for Ravenclaw in the Ravenclaw vs Gryffindor match. 

The rest of your group, and the rest of Slytherin house in general, were back at the castle - they didn’t come out in hordes unless Slytherin was playing - but you had come with Cedric, and he was cheering for Cho, so you supposed that you should too, for solidarity’s sake. 

She was good on her broom, but no match for Harry - nobody could be, really. You held up your blue banner anyway, waving it around and cheering as she dodged a bludger. 

“They need better beaters,” Cedric observed.  
“They need better everything,” you replied, and he shot you a look. 

Harry ended up catching the Snitch, winning the match for Gryffindor. 

“You’re going up against him next,” you said to Cedric as you two waited for Cho to leave the pitch. Cedric smiled. “Yeah, and after that your boy Draco is up.”

You rolled your eyes. Draco wasn't a bad flyer, but you could think of a couple people far more suited to play Seeker. Harper, for one - and Nott could do a pretty good job too. But none of their families could provide Nimbus 2001s to the whole team.

You, Cedric, and Cho walked back up to the castle, Cedric trying to cheer Cho up after a hard match. You parted ways with them upon spotting the back of Dean’s head over at the edge of the pitch. 

He greeted you with a grin. “(Y/N)! Can’t help but notice you’re wearing blue.”  
You smiled back. “I have to keep you guessing.”  
“Well, you’re certainly succeeding at that.”

He moved next to you and placed his hand gently on your shoulder. You couldn’t help but compare it to the way that Draco was always grabbing you and pulling you about. You liked this way better. 

“Seamus!” He called, “Harry! Ron! Get over here.”

Seamus, Ron, and Harry did just that. Harry was still sweaty from the game, but he was beaming, clearly still basking in the excitement of Gryffindor’s win. 

“This is (Y/N),” Dean said, then, to you, “(Y/N), this is Seamus, Harry, and Ron.”

You waved a little shyly. You considered it a bit of a privilege for Dean to have befriended you, you being a Slytherin and all. You weren’t sure whether or not his friends would be so quick to look past it - the Weasley family was practically known for their Gryffindor status, and Harry and Draco were constantly feuding. 

“Hey,” Seamus smiled, “you’re the one who’s always playing chaser, right?”  
“Yeah,” you replied, smiling back. 

Harry and Ron warmed to you less fast, but finally Ron mentioned something about Draco getting clawed by Buckbeak. You jumped in fast.

“I swear he was walking with a limp when it was his arm that got scratched,” you said, and Ron laughed. Even Harry smiled at that one, and, as the conversation went on, they seemed to warm to you. 

“Alright,” Dean said finally, “let me walk you back to the castle?”  
“Sure,” you replied, “I have some Divination homework to fabricate.”

Even Harry laughed at that one. 

You and Dean kept chatting as you walked back up to the castle, and he wrapped his arm loosely around your waist. You leaned into him, noticing how good he smelled - like firewood. You might have to take him up on the tour of Gryffindor tower. 

But not today - you seriously had to catch up with Sadie, Simon, Sebastian, and Tracey about this new development. And you really did have to make up some predictions by tomorrow morning. 

So Dean walked you to the library and left you after promising that he would see you soon. 

As he walked away, you heard a commotion from the hallway on the other side. You walked around the corner to see Neville’s books sprawled across the castle floor. Standing in front of him with snide looks on their faces were Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy. 

“What’s going on?” You asked, striding closer to the scene. 

Draco sneered, “I’m afraid Longbottom slipped.”

You bent down to help Neville pick up his books and get his papers back in order, looking up at Draco angrily. After that Divination class, you had briefly considered the possibility that there was a certain charm to him. This returned you to the reality of the situation: that Draco was a bully with an overinflated ego. 

“Is that true, Neville?” You asked.

Neville looked up at you as if unsure what to say. 

“Did you slip?” You asked again, “or did he hex you?”

Neville nodded at the latter. You finished picking up his books, handed them to him, and got up, striding over to Draco. 

“Really? So you’re just hexing random people in the hallway now?”

Draco laughed meanly. “I guess you’re just the defender of the weak now, (Y/L/N).”  
“Hardly,” you sneered, “Neville isn’t weak.”  
“Oh, you don’t think so?” Draco stepped around you, facing Neville. “He couldn’t even defend himself against a simple jinx.”  
“So you admit you jinxed him.”  
“No,” Draco said, turning back to you, “Crabbe did.”

“And you did nothing to stop it,” you said back.  
“No, I didn’t. Perhaps if Neville was a better wizard, he could have.”  
“Neville’s plenty good. He just had no reason to suspect that you three would be waiting around corners to hex him.”

Draco turned back to Crabbe and Goyle, laughing lightly. They both smiled back at him. Ugly smiles. 

Neville, all his books gathered, got up and started walking back the way he came. 

“Not so fast, Longbottom,” Draco said. Neville stopped and turned back around warily. “Don’t you want to thank your savior?” He asked, motioning towards you. 

You walked away from Draco, going to stand beside Neville. 

“I just picked up his books. He wouldn’t have had any trouble in the first place if it hadn’t been for you.”  
“Thanks,” you heard Neville say softly, and you gave him a quick smile.  
“Which way are you going?” You asked him quietly.

He gestured down the corridor that Crabbe, Goyle, and Draco were blocking. “But I can just go the other way.”

“Malfoy,” you said, reaching your hand out and placing it lightly on Neville’s arm to stop him from taking the long way round just for fear of Malfoy being in his path. “You and your lackeys had better move.”

“Why’s that?”  
“So that Neville can walk by.”  
“What’s stopping him from just walking by us?”

Neville looked down. You kept your hand on his arm, hoping that it was making him feel more secure. 

“What’s stopping you from not jinxing him anymore?”  
“Crabbe?” Draco said, turning around, “what is stopping us from letting Longbottom go?”

Crabbe shrugged stupidly. “He’s Longbottom.”

Draco turned back around with a smirk. “Exactly.”  
“What is that supposed to mean?” You asked Draco. 

“He’s Longbottom - he’s clumsy, oafish, would probably forget his hands if they weren’t attached to his arms, he’s no good at classes, no good at flying, no good at walking, really. He’s never even kissed a girl - he’s probably never even talked to a girl before. Careful with that hand, he might combust.”

Crabbe and Goyle laughed behind him. The perfect henchmen. You felt Neville deflate next to you. You looked over at him and caught his eye. He looked defeated, as if he believed everything that Draco was saying was right. 

“That’s not true, Malfoy,” you said, seething with anger.  
“Isn’t it? Look at him, he knows it as well as I do.”

You looked up into Draco’s smug face, to Crabbe and Goyle delighting in it behind him, and you felt an overwhelming need to prove them wrong. 

You slightly tightened your grip on Neville’s arm, making him look over at you, then took a step towards him and placed your hand lightly on the top of his back. You looked over at Draco and saw that the arrogant expression had been wiped off his face, leaving behind utter confusion in its place. 

Then you looked back to Neville to see his eyes had somehow gotten wider, his lips were slightly parted, and he was staring at you with a sort of mindless wonder on his face. You leaned in and kissed him gently, breaking apart quickly. 

For a second, Dean crossed your mind. But he wouldn’t be mad - not about this. You glanced at Neville to make sure you hadn’t overstepped, but he was looking at his feet, smiling slightly. 

Then you looked back up at Draco. You didn’t know how exactly you were expecting him to react, but the look on his face caught you off guard. 

His brow was furrowed, hanging over his eyes, and his eyes themselves flashed with anger. The hand that wasn't holding his wand was curled into a tight fist. Leave it to Draco to be mad that he couldn’t bully Neville about not having kissed anyone anymore. 

“Let's go,” you said to Neville, and started walking down the hallway. You glanced back to see that he was following. 

Draco didn’t step aside for you, but he didn’t try to stop you either. Instead, his angry eyes followed you and Neville all the way down the hall - you could feel them burning into your back. 

You turned a corner. Neville turned to you, face red. “I - er, thanks a lot.” He said, blushing fiercely.  
“Malfoy's a dick.”

Neville nodded. “Yeah. Thanks. I know I already said it, but - well, yeah, thanks.”

You smiled at him, then turned and walked back down the hallway. 

Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle were still standing in the middle of the hallway, Draco looking angry, Crabbe and Goyle looking confused. 

He reached out to you as you walked past, but you pulled away from him. 

“(Y/L/N)!” He called out, and you turned around.  
“Don’t bother, Malfoy. Just when I was beginning to think you weren’t as bad as people make you out to be, you have to go and do this.”  
“It’s only Longbottom!”  
“You’re such a git.”

Draco walked quickly to catch up with you. “You love telling me that.”

You rounded on him. “It’s the truth. You can’t go hexing people in the hallway.”  
“What, but you can go kissing people in the hallway?”  
“I was proving a point.”

Draco scowled. “Yeah, well, you definitely proved something. Not what you think you did, though.”

You decided not to waste your time puzzling out what he meant by that. Instead, you turned around and kept walking. 

“So you’re just gonna walk away, then?”

You didn’t even turn around.

_______________________________

The cold air swirled around the streets of Hogsmeade, dusting the ground with the last snows of winter. You walked hand-in-hand with Dean Thomas, who, as you had predicted, didn’t really care much about the whole kissing Neville incident. 

“It was just a quick one, though, right? Not a snog or anything?” He had asked, and you had promised him that there was no tongue involved. 

Now he was taking you to the Three Broomsticks for that butterbeer you had promised him months back. You leaned on his shoulder, your breath and his breath mingling in the air. 

He grinned at you as you sat down.

“What’s funny?” You asked.  
“Nothing. Just happy to be here with you.”

You couldn’t help but smile back at him. 

“I suppose it’s time I asked you,” he said, and suddenly you felt your face heat up - “we’ve been hanging out a lot recently, you know, you’ve met all my friends, I haven’t met yours but I’m sure I’ll like them…”

He would like them, you thought, and they would like him once they got over the Gryffindor aspect of it all. 

“And now that you’re kissing other guys in the hallway,” he joked, “I think it’s about time that I locked you down for real.”

You leaned back and he looked at you in anticipation. 

“You’re gonna make me say it?” He asked, and you raised your eyebrows.  
“Of course I am.”

“I really like you, (Y/N). I was hoping we could… make it official.”

You grinned, nodding, your faces moving closer and closer until your lips were touching. You had kissed Dean a couple times before, but now everything felt different, more heightened. The sweet smell of butterbeer and cinnamon swirled through the air, his hands were pressed against your waist, and you felt his lips curl into a smile beneath yours.

You broke apart. He grinned. “Hi, girlfriend.”  
“Alright,” you warned, “if you’re too nice to me I’ll get bored of you.”

He laughed. “Noted. I’ll make sure to make fun of you from time to time.”

You kissed him again. 

By the time you left the Three Broomsticks to go back up to Hogwarts, you felt like you were walking on air. Your friends leered at you from inside Dervish and Banges where they were helping Sebastian search for a crystal ball, and you couldn’t help but smile widely at them. 

Simon playfully swooned into Sebastian’s arms. You snorted. Dean looked at you funny. 

“Nothing,” you said, laughing, “it’s nothing.”

He raised his eyebrows, and you gave in, gesturing to the store window. Dean looked over, watching as Sadie and Simon dramatically reenacted you two kissing. Dean smiled. 

“Is that really what we look like?” He asked.  
“Apparently,” you said back, and he grabbed your hand and pulled you up the way. 

Halfway up to the castle you realized that your neck was cold, and, subsequently, that you must have left your scarf in the Three Broomsticks. 

Dean winced. “I would come down with you, but I have a mandatory study group for Potions in fifteen minutes, and you know how bad I am at Potions.”

You smiled. “That’s alright. See you later.”  
“Later.”

You hurried back down to Hogsmeade, wondering if your friends were still there or if they had wandered off into the countryside to play about as they sometimes did. 

You popped into the Three Broomsticks and quickly found your scarf, abandoned on the floor of the booth you two had been sitting at. 

You hurried outside, scanning store windows for your friends, but you didn’t see them anywhere. Instead, to your chagrin, you saw Draco Malfoy coming out of Dervish and Banges. 

You tried to pretend like you didn’t notice him, but he didn’t believe that for a second. 

“(Y/L/N),” he called out.

You whipped around. “Sorry, Malfoy, can’t talk right now.”  
“Yes you can,” he insisted, and walked over to you. 

You stood in silence for a second, then he spoke. “So, you and Thomas now, is it?”  
“Shouldn’t matter to you,” you shot back.  
“Perhaps not,” he said, looking at you strangely. 

“Yeah,” you confirmed out of spite, “it is me and Dean now, since you’re so curious.”

He looked up into the sky for a second, then back down at you with that same strange expression on his face. 

“Listen, about the other day…”  
“What other day?”  
“The day - well, Neville - when Crabbe…” It wasn't usually like Draco to trip over his words.  
“Yeah, when Crabbe hexed him and you made fun of him.” You supplied.  
“Right, well...”

He looked at you imploringly, his eyes flicking back and forth across your face in anticipation. For a second, you felt a softness, but then you remembered his expression as he was saying all of those things about Neville. 

“Yes?”  
“Don't get involved in that stuff again.” He said simply.

You weren’t really sure what to say to that. “What do you expect, for me to just let you go at Neville?”

He shrugged, as if that's exactly what he expected.  
You scoffed. “You shouldn’t have hexed him, you know. It was stupid and awful.”  
“You shouldn’t have kissed him," he returned easily, his face contorting into its usual sneer.

“What, are you jealous?” You took a stab at him. Obviously he wasn't jealous - he had Pansy and probably a couple of other girls on deck, but you knew this would throw him off his guard and annoy him.

He got that same angry look on his face as he had when you had kissed Neville. It made his face twist, look ugly. Not that he wasn't ugly anyway. Or - really he wasn't. He was more like - well, you shouldn’t be spending time thinking about his face anyway. 

“Of course I’m not jealous.” He said venomously.  
“Then I can’t imagine why you care so badly about it.” You replied, then turned heel and walked back toward the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed :)


	5. The Seeker

It was the day of the Slytherin vs Gryffindor match - if Gryffindor won by over 100 points, they would take the cup, otherwise it would come back home to the Slytherin dungeons for the eighth year in a row. 

Needless to say, Slytherin house was out in hordes. You were dressed all in green, waving an enchanted flag that flashed green lights all over the place. Next to you, Sebastian held up his flag, which was a snake that hissed every time Slytherin scored, and on your right Sadie stood, wearing a giant green hat. Tracey was back at Hogwarts - she was more interested in hooking up with a Ravenclaw guy while the castle was empty than watching Quidditch, but, by some kind of miracle, Simon had gotten up and gotten dressed, and was standing behind you. 

The team was playing a little dirty, you had to admit - but hey, these were the tactics that had given them seven consecutive wins, and if Gryffindor couldn’t stack up, then they couldn’t stack up. 

Harry was flying all over the place today, helping clear paths for the Gryffindor chasers and redirecting bludgers. Every now and then he would fly far above the pitch, scanning the sky for the Snitch. 

Draco was flying well too - fast and lean. He was primarily interested in looking for the Snitch, hovering atop the pitch and occasionally nose diving toward the ground below to throw Harry off. 

It never worked, though. It was clear from the beginning that Gryffindor was playing at their peak, especially Harry, and it wasn't too long before Gryffindor was fifty points ahead. 

Harry dove down from the sky, clearing Crabbe and Goyle away from Angelina as she barrelled towards the Slytherin keeper. 

Your eyes turned elsewhere, though, to Draco, who was hovering near the Ravenclaw stands. Suddenly, he zipped off, leaning forward. This wasn't fake, you thought - you saw it at once, the Snitch buzzing higher into the air near the staff stands. 

Harry saw it too, and whipped his broom around to give chase. 

For a second, you thought Draco might have it, but Harry caught up almost effortlessly, and then it was Harry and Draco knocking into each other, both moving at high speed toward the Snitch in the sky. 

You saw Draco reach out and grab Harry’s broom, and gasped out loud. Some Slytherins cheered him, but actually impeding another player was such a flagrant violation of the rules that you were surprised Madam Hooch didn’t blow the whistle. 

It didn’t matter anyway, because the Snitch dropped in the sky at the last minute, and Harry dove just as quickly, perfectly maneuvering his broom and perfectly outmaneuvering Draco. 

He caught the Snitch, and Gryffindor erupted in cheers. Lion banners roared, red and gold confetti rained down on the field, and you and the rest of the Slytherins felt thoroughly depressed. 

It had begun to rain as you, Simon, Sebastian, and Sadie made your way back up to the castle. Gryffindor was still up at the pitch celebrating, but you were tired and sad that Slytherin hadn’t taken it. 

You took a long, hot shower and put your hair up, resolving yourself to do at least half of your Charms essay before bed.

It had gotten late, and, unfortunately, you were nowhere near halfway through the essay. You heard a noise from the common room and decided to take it as a sign that you shouldn’t be working. 

You walked down the stairs to see what the commotion was.

Marcus Flint was yelling at Draco in the common room. Marcus, the Slytherin Quidditch captain, was impossibly huge, tall, and ugly - his teeth practically hung out of his mouth. Draco was holding his own against him.

“If you had caught it -” Marcus started.  
“If you had done your job, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. I’ll remind you Gryffindor was fifty points ahead anyway when Potter caught the Snitch.” Draco cut him off.  
“I’ll remind you that you had one job, which was to outfly the boy that fainted on the Hogwarts Express, and you failed to do even that.”

You quickly scanned the common room and saw that nobody else was awake. It was late, and most Slytherins had taken an early night to sleep off their post-loss depression, so they would be sound asleep by now. You probably only heard the noise because your room was right at the top of the stairs. 

“If we had better beaters - if you could outfly Angelina - if Bletchley could manage to block a shot -” Draco said, trailing off as Marcus tightened his grip on Draco’s arms.

“Yeah, and all of that wouldn’t have meant a thing if you had just done what you were supposed to do.” Marcus shoved Draco then, sending him back into the wall, the bottom of his robes dangerously close to the fire. 

“So what, I’m supposed to carry the whole team on my back?” Draco stepped forward again. Marcus was done with talking, it seemed, and shoved Draco again. 

This time, he hit the wall with more force. 

You felt your heart pounding hard. 

“You’re the seeker, Malfoy. You didn’t. Fucking. Catch it.” 

Marcus shoved Draco’s head back into the wall then, and you heard it thunk against the hard stone. Draco grunted in pain, and you gasped, drawing Marcus’s attention. 

“Look who we have here,” Marcus growled, face curling into an evil smile. 

You stepped into the light. “Leave off him, Flint.”

“Oh, how cute,” Marcus grinned cruelly, “one of Malfoy’s little girlfriends standing up for him. I guess you need a girl to step in when you can’t be a man yourself.”

“(Y/N),” Draco said coolly, “you stay out of this.”

You didn’t even have time to be surprised that Draco was using your first name before Marcus turned back to him. “Have anything else to say, Malfoy?”

Draco’s eyes flashed darkly. Marcus continued. “Or are you ready to admit it was your fault?”

Draco spat at his feet, and Marcus growled, slamming him up against the wall a second time. His head rammed into the stone again, and he groaned in pain. 

“You’re hurting him.”

Marcus sneered at you. “Yeah, that’s the idea. Why do you care?”  
“It’s cruel.”

“(Y/L/N), just go to bed. I’ll be fine,” Draco breathed out, but he was grimacing in pain, hands bracing his body against the wall. 

“Let go of him,” you said, gaining confidence as you made your way further and further into the common room. 

Draco groaned in pain again. “Get out of here. Why are you getting involved in this?”

Marcus loosened his grip on Draco, though, focusing his attention on you. He scanned you, eyes drifting up and down your body.

“Am I wrong, or did Pansy tell me about you?” He asked, a mean bite to his voice.

You took another step toward him. You saw Draco out of the corner of your eye, expression imploring you to leave. 

“Did she?” You tried to sound nonchalant.  
“Carrying a little flame, are we, Malfoy?” He asked Draco. “But I heard she’s with someone else now.”

“I don’t - I’m not - Pansy’s paranoid, just how she always is.” Draco answered weakly.

Marcus laughed, dropping Draco, who slumped toward the ground, his hands coming up to hold his head. 

Marcus moved closer to you. “So it wouldn’t matter to you if I…”

Suddenly, he made a move toward you, but you were ready, pulling out your wand and pointing it right at his face.

 _“Brackium!”_ You shouted, and you heard a crunch. Marcus doubled over, his hands coming up to his nose. 

He looked up then, blood trailing down from his nostrils. “You broke my nose, you fucking psycho!”  
You kept pointing your wand at his face. “Malfoy, get up,” you said. 

Draco did as he was told. He blinked, squinting his eyes, as he pulled himself up. You remembered when Simon fell off his bed last year and Sadie told everyone he had a concussion, which was a muggle word for a bad head injury. 

“Don’t ever bother me again,” you warned Marcus, who was looking particularly murderous. Then, as an afterthought, “or him. Or anyone. Go on.”  
“I’ll get you back, (Y/L/N),” he growled, then left the common room. 

You walked the couple steps over to Draco, who looked at you as if he wasn't sure who you were. 

“You need the hospital wing,” you told him, raising your arm to help him walk. He flinched as your hand came near him. 

“Are you alright?” You asked, and he nodded. 

“Can’t go to the hospital wing,” he whispered to you. “Flint will get in trouble.”  
“As he should,” you said, but Draco shook his head.

“Things will be even worse for me if he does. Worse. Just - take me to my room.”

You weren’t sure where his room was, so you led him down the hallway until he slowed down and lumbered toward a half-open door. 

You pushed it open all the way, and light spilled into the hallway from outside. Draco groaned as it hit his eyes, squeezing them shut. 

“You’ll be fine,” you said, and turned off the light. You dumped him on his bed, stared at him for a second, and then decided that there was nothing else that you could do. 

As you turned to leave the room, he murmured something. You turned back around. 

“What?” You asked. 

He stared at you, then shook his head. “(Y/N).” He said simply, his voice slow and strained. 

You didn’t know what that meant. You stayed another minute, but he shut his eyes, so you left and walked back up to your room to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for your kudos and comments, they make my day!!


	6. The Lake

Spring came fast, and in no time the lake had thawed out and everyone was hanging out in the courtyards again. 

You woke up early one morning to see Sadie’s face smiling above you. 

“We’re swimming,” Sadie said, “get up.”

You got up quickly and changed into a bathing suit. You left the dungeons to see Sebastian, Simon, and Tracey standing right outside with Dean and Michael Corner. 

Dean smiled at your shocked expression. He had met your friends a couple weeks ago now, and they seemed to have hit it off even more than you thought they had if they were getting him to come swimming with you. 

You raised your eyebrows at Tracey upon seeing Michael Corner - she had been joking about getting with him forever, and it seemed the day had finally come. 

Sebastian ran through your room and vaulted through the window, landing with a huge splash in the water below. 

The rest of you followed, Dean going last. 

“Is it actually safe to swim in here?” He asked.  
“We haven’t been kidnapped by the merpeople just yet,” Sebastian replied, and Dean jumped out too. 

You swam around for hours, using your wands to cast floating spells so that you didn’t have to tread water. Simon took it upon himself to start swimming around underwater and grabbing people’s ankles. He caught Tracey off guard a couple of times, leading her to accidentally kick him in the face. He surfaced, holding his face dramatically. 

Eventually, everyone made their way to shore. Swimming in the lake was fun and all, but walking back through the castle to the Slytherin dungeons always seemed far too long of a walk. Usually, you would cast drying and heating spells on each other, but Simon had dared everyone to walk through the castle wet. 

You weren’t complaining this time, though - this way you had an excuse to walk closer to Dean. 

You hugged him and parted ways near the entrance to the dungeons, exchanging promises to organize another pickup game soon. 

As soon as you got into the common room, though, the mood changed. 

Despite the fire roaring in the middle of the room, you felt colder. The water dripped off your hair and ran down your back in little beads. 

Draco stood in the middle of the common room with Crabbe, Blaise, Pansy, and a couple other people that you recognized as his usual crowd. He was telling a story, clearly mocking someone, but he trailed off when he saw you and a look of disgust passed over his face. 

You hadn’t seen him since the night when you had broken Marcus Flint’s nose. You had wondered whether or not he would thank you - he hadn’t - but you had at least thought that he would stop taunting you and your friends. Apparently, he didn’t even see fit to do that. 

“Forgot how to cast a simple drying spell, did you?” He asked.

Pansy scoffed beside him. “You know, leave it to (Y/L/N) to walk through the common room in a bathing suit. She’s absolutely craving someone to pay her an ounce of attention.”

Draco looked down at Pansy and smiled meanly. They were both bad alone, you thought, but together they were just despicable. 

You moved past them and towards the stairs up to the girls dorms. 

“Nothing to say?” Pansy drawled, “that’s what I thought.”  
“I have plenty to say to you, Pansy,” you turned around to face her. “But I don’t care enough about you to get into it.”

She laughed, hugging herself to Draco’s side. “Do tell”

“You’re pitiful,” you say, “hanging off the every word of Malfoy, probably failing all your classes, getting all dressed up every morning just to look like that - I would say I don’t understand how you have any friends, but you don’t, not really. It’s sickening, really, and a bit sad. But I can’t bring myself to feel bad for you because you’re just so… horrible.”

Pansy’s facade of easy meanness seemed to splinter as you spoke. Her face contorted into a bit of shock, then hardened into real anger. She turned to Draco once you stopped speaking. 

“Go on, then,” she said to him in a hard voice, “prove it to me.”

You briefly wondered what she meant by that, but then Draco started talking. 

“Calling Pansy pitiful while you run around with a Gryffindor - that’s rich, (Y/L/N). And I suppose you didn’t know that the rest of the castle is laughing behind your back about Longbottom, but, really, you should’ve seen that one coming from miles away. You must really think highly of yourself to be walking around with your little friends while the rest of us wonder how you were even sorted into this house to begin with - but then again, you’ve always been confident for absolutely no reason that I can think of.”

As he spoke, you felt your stomach tighten. You had witnessed Draco saying stuff like this to other people, but this was the first time it had been trained on you. His words themselves made shallow cuts - you didn’t really care about what other Slytherins thought of your and your friends - but it was the fact that he was the one saying them that really bothered you. 

You had saved him from getting even more hurt by Marcus, after all, and - even before that, even when he was bullying others, you two had always shared a bit of banter. You were loathe to admit it, but your hatred for Malfoy had thawed a little this year. Even when you were arguing, which was most of the time, you sort of enjoyed crafting comebacks and making him tick. 

In that moment, though, all the hatred came back. Pansy hung off his arm, a self-satisfied expression on her face. Draco looked smug. 

“You two are pathetic,” you said, your voice low and angry. Then you turned around and walked up the stairs. 

“That’s all you have?” Pansy said in a sing-song voice from behind you. You felt like you were boiling over.

___________________________

Flying was a good way to shake off your brewing anger from last night. You, Cedric, Sebastian, and Ron were playing on a team against Harry, Seamus, and Dean. Despite the uneven teams, Harry, Seamus, and Dean were still winning. 

“We usually count Harry as three players,” Seamus said by way of explanation. 

You walked back up to the castle with everyone, Sebastian parting ways to go meet Anna Giovanni at the fourth floor broom closet. 

“Teach me your ways,” Ron said in wonder as he walked away, and Dean laughed, grabbing your hand. 

The rest of you chatted easily to each other as you walked away from the pitch. You weren’t really that close with Harry, Ron, or Seamus - you only really talked to them during these pickup games - but you enjoyed your little conversations. 

Dean gave you a kiss goodbye as he and Cedric headed to the library, and Ron and Seamus punched him playfully on the shoulder as they walked away. 

Tired from a long game, you made your way through the common room quickly and walked upstairs to your room, ready for a long nap. 

You pushed open your door to find that Draco was sitting on your bed. He looked up at you as you entered, making you jump in surprise. 

Your surprise quickly turned into anger. 

“What the fuck are you doing in my room?!”  
“I need to talk to you,” he said, careful, measured.  
“Then talk.”

He got up from your bed, walking a couple steps toward you. 

“About last night,” he started, getting up and walking towards you, “I wanted to…”

He trailed off, looking at you imploringly.

“What happened last night?” You asked, wanting to make him say it.  
“You know.”

You didn’t reply, slightly relishing in the fact that you were obviously making him uncomfortable. After a couple silent seconds, you opened your mouth to speak again, but he got there first.

“Me and Pansy and everything. What she - well, what I said.” He looked back up at you.  
“What about it?” You asked, briefly wondering if he had just come into your room just to insult you again. 

He breathed in slowly, running his hand through his hair. The cut on his arm was healing nicely. He walked backwards a couple steps, then sunk back down onto your bed. 

“Get off my bed,” you said quietly, annoyed that he even had the nerve to come in here while you were gone. 

Like he was reading your mind, he spoke again. “I didn’t mean to stay in here, I was just seeing if you were here, and you weren’t, so I figured you must be at Quidditch, and I was going to leave but I just sort of… well, I didn’t want to go back downstairs.”

“Just say what you need to and leave.” You said.  
“I just wanted to say... don't worry about what I said.”  
“Whatever that means.” You scoffed, but he cut you off.  
“It doesn’t matter. I'm telling you not to worry about it.”

Strangely, you _had_ been worried about it. Maybe not worried. Maybe more pissed off. He said those things in front of everyone, gave you that smug look after he was done. The image of Pansy holding his arm popped into your head.

“You still said it.” You said. 

He got up again, walking over closer to you. 

“I know.” 

You looked away from him. 

“I thought you didn’t care about what Pansy thinks,” he said.  
“It’s not about Pansy, Malfoy,” you returned. 

“Then what is it about?”

You looked back at him. “It’s about the way you always act towards everyone who isn’t in your stupid little group. Just the things you say and the way you are is so…”

“Is this about Longbottom?” He asked with his usual air of superiority.  
“No.” You said, taken aback. “Well, yeah, sort of, I guess. It’s just the way you talk to people.”  
“The way I talk to you?” You couldn't figure out his tone.

“You never talked to me like that before.” You said.  
“Of course I have,” he said back.

But, looking back, besides that one time he had called you a blood-traitor in first year, his insults were usually directed at someone else.

You thought of the way he had acted, how cruel his voice was, how his features were twisted in anger and how close Pansy was to him, the way they had looked at you together, the same arrogance on their faces. 

“I have no idea what you're still doing in here.”  


He just stood there, inches from you, staring at you and breathing slow, calm breaths. He leaned down closer to your face, making you feel trapped. 

“If you want me to leave, you have to move,” he whispered in a low voice. "You're blocking the door."

You moved quickly, walking over to the window. Behind you, you heard the sound of your door open, then shut. You breathed out slowly, staring out at the lake, then turned around and - no. He was still in your room.

And suddenly he was right in front of you, and you watched as his hand moved through the air to lightly touch the back of your neck. You stared at him with wide eyes, and he stared back at you, pupils moving back and forth as if memorizing your face. 

“I…” he said, trailing off, eyes like big searchlights. The sun shining through the window made them seem even lighter than normal, silvery. You didn’t know why you’d noticed his eyes before. 

“You -” he tried again, but you both snapped out of it at the same time. He snatched his hand back to his side not too gently and you stepped away, back touching the wall. 

Then he left, really left this time. You sat on your bed, moving your own hand to the back of your neck to touch where he was touching. Your heart was pounding so loudly that it was almost painful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed and thanks for your comments/kudos :)


	7. Forget It

You, Sebastian, Sadie, Simon, and Tracey were having lunch on the hillside to celebrate finals being over, taking turns grilling one another. 

You had talked about Dean for a while, and how you planned to stay together over the summer. Your friends all confirmed that they liked him around, but Sadie, ever the cynic, had some more to say about it. 

“He’s alright,” she said, then, when you gave her a look, “he’s great! But - and I’m just saying here - I don’t think you ever gave it a good try with Cedric.”

“He likes Cho,” you responded, “and I like Dean.”  
“Oh, alright then,” Sadie conceded.

Talk soon turned to Michael Corner, Tracey’s newly-acquired boyfriend. 

“You know, every good Ravenclaw has a bit of Slytherin in them,” she said.  
“I beg you, Tracey, stop trying to justify it,” Simon replied, but in the end everyone agreed that Michael was a good hang. 

Sebastian formally announced that he was giving up his pursuit of one Daphne Greengrass.

“We hooked up a couple times. All I can say is this - it wasn't worth the effort.”

You all were laughing, chatting absentmindedly about finals, when you saw Draco walk by at the bottom of the hill. You two hadn’t spoken since you had talked in your room last week - talked and then… well, whatever had happened after that. 

You watched him as he looked up the hill and saw you. Your eyes stayed hooked on each other for a while, then he shook it off and kept walking. 

You made an excuse to your friends and walked across the hillside, meeting him at the bottom of the hill out of sight of everyone else. 

“Malfoy,” you said.  
“(Y/L/N),” he returned, voice cool and calm. 

“I think we should talk.” You said.  
“What about?”  
“About what happened.”

He looked confused. “I’m not sure what you mean.”  
“I mean what happened when you came to my room…” You trailed off.  
"I didn’t realize we had more to talk about.”  
“I meant that I think we should talk about what happened afterwards.”

Now he looked really confused. “I haven’t seen you since then.”  
“No, when you came up to me, after I thought you had left, and you -”

He cut you off quickly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The expression on his face was one of shallow confusion, but you could see that he was lying. 

“Yes, you do know what I’m talking about.”  
“I assure you, I don't. Perhaps you dreamed it.”

He made an attempt to walk by you, but you put up your hand, blocking him.

“Why are you lying to me?”  
“I’m not.”  
“Yes, you are.”

He glanced around, then looked back at you.

“Just forget about it, okay?”  
“I knew you were lying.”

He grabbed the hand you were using to block him. “Tell me you’ll forget about it.”  
“Why?”  
“Because that’s what needs to happen. We’re going to forget about it.”

You didn’t say anything. He dropped your hand and walked away, leaving you confused.  
_________________________________

It was the last Hogsmeade trip of the year - finals were over and you were going home in two days. The air was warm with summer. 

You and Sebastian were the only ones still in Hogsmeade - you had stayed to buy some candy for Dean as a parting gift, and Sebastian had stayed to keep you company. 

You left Honeydukes with bags full of sweets - hopefully enough to last you the summer vacation - and you and Sebastian began walking back up to the castle when you saw Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle descending upon you. 

“Daley,” Draco said in a cold voice.

“Ah, shit,” Sebastian breathed out. It was always weird between Sebastian and Draco - Sebastian hated him, but he’d get in trouble if his dad found out they had gotten in a fight, since he worked closely with Lucius at the Ministry. 

“Malfoy,” he returned, keeping an even tone.

Draco turned to look at you. “Go on to the castle. I need a word with (Y/L/N).”

Sebastian looked at you questioningly. You shrugged, just as confused as him.

“Daley, I told you to leave.” Draco said cooly.  
“Leave off him,” you said, just as Sebastian said “I’m not leaving her with you.”

Draco chose to ignore you and responded to Sebastian instead. “Oh, and why’s that?”  
“I don’t fancy the thought of you two alone,” Sebastian returned simply. 

Draco looked at you, then back at Sebastian. “What did she tell you?” He asked in a low voice.

Sebastian looked confused. “She didn’t tell me anything, Malfoy.”  
“Then why don’t you fancy the thought of us alone?”  
“Because you’re a dick,” Sebastian fired out quickly, then stopped to assess what Draco had just said. “Wait - what would (Y/N) tell me that would make me not want to leave you two alone?”

“Nothing. Just leave. I don’t want to say it again.” Draco looked at you imploringly. 

Sebastian turned at you in confusion. “What’s going on?” He asked in a quiet voice.

“It’s fine, Sebastian. You can go.”  
“What would you tell me about him?”  
“Please just leave it.”

Sebastian shot another confused look at you, then obediently turned and walked away. He paused in front of Draco, about to say something, then thought better of it and kept walking past Crabbe and Goyle back up to the castle.

Once he got far enough away, Malfoy made his way up to you. 

“Crabbe, Goyle,” he said without looking up at them, “Go to the Hog’s Head. Now.”  
“What are you doing, Draco?” Crabbe asked.  
“I said go to the Hog’s Head,” he said again, eyes still locked on you.

They obeyed, walking past you two and down toward the bar at the end of the street. 

As soon as they were two shops down, Draco turned and ducked into an alley, motioning for you to follow. 

“Come on, then,” he said simply. 

You did.

You followed him almost all the way down the alley, then he rounded on you, making you stop short. 

“I need to know,” he said, “did you tell anyone?”

A flicker of annoyance tugged at your chest. You didn’t know what you had expected when you followed him, but it wasn't this. 

“No, Malfoy. You told me to forget about it, remember?”  
“And did you?”  
“Obviously not,” you said, “but I haven’t told anyone.”

“I think that’s a lie,” he countered, “I think you’ve told all your little friends already.”

Already over this conversation, you tried to walk past him, but he grabbed your robes. You let your annoyance roll off your chest and onto your tongue.

“Don’t you grab me like that,” you said, tugging yourself away from him.  
“(Y/L/N),” he said, grabbing at you again.

You pulled out your wand then, pointing it at his chest. “I said don’t. I don’t know why I followed you.”

He put his hands up, and you pulled your wand down. Before you turned away, he spoke. 

“I just need to know if you told.”  
“I didn’t. You just talked to Sebastian, you know that he doesn’t know anything.”

“And you didn’t tell any of those girls either?”  
“No, Malfoy. I didn’t tell anyone, I’m not going to, and I would appreciate it if we could just stop talking about this and do exactly what you wanted - forget that it ever happened.”

“Yeah, we’ll forget about it,” he said, seeming content. 

“Right,” you said, “so I’ll leave now.”

He nodded, but his hand was still on your sleeve. He looked down at it, and you did too, then looked back up to see that he was making eye contact with you. 

Suddenly his other hand was on the small of your back, and his face was so close to yours. Your mind was racing, but it felt blank at the same time. 

Then, suddenly, he pushed you away from him. You took a stumbling step backwards. 

“What the hell,” you breathed, furious that he had pushed you.  
“Go on, leave,” he said darkly, so you turned heel and did just that.

You walked out of the alley to see that Sebastian had started walking back down towards Hogsmeade. You hurried to him, wanting to get there before Draco could say anything else to him.

“What the fuck was that, (Y/N)?” Sebastian asked you as soon as you got within five feet of him.  
“It’s - just nothing. He needed to talk to me about Potions work.”  
“He’s best in our year at potions besides Granger. He doesn’t need your help.”  
“Did I say Potions?” You breezed through your excuse, “I meant Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“It’s end of term, there isn’t any more work” Sebastian said, “And besides, why would he ask you for help? You two hate each other. And his girlfriend really hates you.”

He stopped short. “Wait a minute.”

You looked back at him.

“Why does Pansy hate you so much?” He asked  
“You know Pansy. She hates everyone beside herself and Malfoy.”  
“No, but she really hates you. You should’ve heard her and Malfoy talking in the common room the other day - she doesn’t hate Tracey and Sadie like that.”  
“Malfoy and her were talking about me?”  
“(Y/N), what’s going on? Because I think I might be forming my own conclusion here.”

“I told you, Sebastian, it’s nothing. Defense Against the Dark Arts stuff.”  
“Yeah? Maybe you could get away with that lie if I was a Hufflepuff. Too bad I’m not. Now, what’s going on?”

You breathed out. It looked like there would be no getting this one around him.

“I can’t tell you,” you finally said.  
“So there’s something to tell.”

You walked a couple paces, then Sebastian looked over at you meaningfully.

“Tell me you and Malfoy aren’t hooking up.”  
“No!” You returned powerfully. “I’m not gonna be Pansy’s sloppy seconds, especially not for Malfoy.”  
“Yeah, I figured that couldn’t be it,” Sebastian sighed, “though it does explain Pansy’s hatred for you.”

Sebastian grinned. “You know I’ll figure it out.”  
“You won’t,” you smiled back.

You got back to the castle then, and walked beside Sebastian in silence, your mind running wild. 

Draco had his hand on the back of your neck, then the small of your back. You had shook him off grabbing at your robes multiple times, thought about him when he wasn't around, been so close to him. But you hadn’t really thought about _that_ until Sebastian said it. 

You hadn’t really pictured you and Draco kissing, not ever, but now it was in your mind. You climbed up the stairs with Sebastian, walking past the fourth floor broom closet - his notorious hookup spot - and wondered what it would be like to be inside there with Draco.

But it wasn't really Draco you were thinking of, you told yourself. It was Dean.

That was more like it. You pictured him in bed beside you, walking with you down the hallway, and you smiled. 

You felt bad about lying to Sebastian, about not telling Tracey, Sadie, and Simon anything at all. But you had told Draco you wouldn’t. You didn’t intend to break your word.

_____________________________

The train home was always full of tears and sleeping, and right now all of your friends except you were asleep. Simon was leaning against the window, Sadie was leaning against Simon, and Sebastian was leaning back against the wall, his mouth open. Tracey had gone to visit Michael Corner, and, since you couldn’t sleep, you decided to go find Dean.

As soon as you stepped out into the corridor, though, you found Draco there instead. He was standing in the middle of the way, Pansy hanging off of him like a designer bag. 

“Move,” he said.  
“I’m not blocking anything,” you returned.  
“You’re blocking my vision of the hallway.” 

“And you’re not a very good view,” Pansy added, smirking. 

“How many times must we have this conversation, Malfoy? You’re a dick,” you said. Everything that came out of his mouth only served to prove your point - that he was an unapologetic bully who had nothing good going for him.  
“Aw,” Pansy drawled, “you talk to him about it? Draco, why don’t you start taking notes?”

Draco didn’t say anything. He looked down, refusing to meet your eyes. 

“Why don’t you move?” You suggested, “I need to go down that way to see my boyfriend.”

“Your boyfriend?” Pansy asked, “Oh, right, that Gryffindor. Pitiful, really. I couldn’t imagine. Could you, Draco?”

Draco looked up at you with a smug expression on his face. 

“No, I couldn’t. But some people have to take what they can get,” he said.  
You scoffed. “You’re unbelievable.”

Pansy snaked her arms around his neck and he leaned down to kiss her, right there in front of you. 

You could’ve gone back into your compartment, but your feet felt frozen to the ground. He shoved Pansy off him, and she made a noise of indignance. 

He turned to look at you with an unreadable expression. But Pansy’s body hanging off of him, her arms still around his neck - that was all too clear. 

No longer wanting to go find Dean, you turned and walked back into your compartment, staring out the window and hoping sleep would come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll update with the beginning of fourth year either tomorrow or the next day (thurs/fri).
> 
> thanks for reading & your kudos/comments :)


	8. Madam Malkin's (fourth year)

It was a hot day, made only hotter by the crowds of people milling about Diagon Alley. You and your mother had been walking around from store to store all day, getting you your new books and a bigger cauldron.. 

You only had one more stop on your list - Madam Malkin’s. You hadn’t grown since last year, and your old robes still fit you, but your school list had included formal wear on it this year, so you needed a nice dress.

There were only two other families inside.

The McLaggens were sat nearest to the door. Cormac was standing in front of the full-length mirror, slowly turning around to inspect every detail of his newly-fitted robes. His mother nodded to herself. “They look perfect, dear.”

You hated to admit it, seeing as Cormac was one of the most arrogant people you had ever met - typical Gryffindor - but they did fit him well. 

Your mother moved toward the back of the shop, looking for Madam Malkin, and you followed. 

As you reached the back of the store, you saw them. Sat in front of what must have been the most ornate mirror in Diagon Alley were Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. They sat on a plum-colored velvet couch, perfect posture, heads held high with twin expressions of distaste adorning their faces. Lucius’s hand rested sharply on his cane, the metal carving of a snake with eyes of emerald’s staring across the room. Narcissa’s hands were folded neatly in her lap.

You heard shuffling from the back, and all at once Draco sauntered into view, Madam Malkin following. He looked different - his hair was a bit longer, his shoulders somehow broader. He strode over to the mirror, giving himself the once-over.

Cormac’s robes suddenly seemed ill-fitting in comparison. Draco stood, relaxed, in front of the mirror. His robes poured over him perfectly, decorating his shoulders and floating down languidly to his feet. They weren’t normal robes, you thought - they must have been his dress robes. 

He ran a finger through his hair, turning slightly to the side to see them from a different angle. Had his jawline always been this sharp?

Catching yourself staring, you glanced back down at the floor. If Cormac was a dick, Draco was ten times as bad. You hadn’t forgotten about what he had done to you last year. How could you have?

All those weird, stilted apologies. The times he would get mad at you for being around other boys. His hands on your sleeve, your neck, your back - your boyfriend, his girlfriend. The time he had pulled you into an alley and begged you not to tell anyone anything. And you hadn’t. But that didn’t mean they had just left your mind.

Madam Malkin flitted around Draco, pulling his robes around and stepping back to assess her work. 

“That’ll do,” she said, turning to Narcissa and Lucius for their assent.

Narcissa nodded, allowing a small smile. Lucius’s face remained at an impasse.

Your eyes flicked back to the mirror, and unwittingly - horrifyingly - met Draco’s. He raised his eyebrows, smirking. You arranged your face into an expression that you hope resembled distaste, then looked away as Madam Malkin made her way over to you and your mother. 

“A dress?” She asked, all business as usual. 

Your mother nodded, smiling down at you. You smiled back.

“Let me go check on the McLaggens, then I’ll see you right back here. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, I’ll meet you at the front whenever you’re ready.”

She hurried away to the front of the store, and you and your mother sat down on one of the nearby couches to wait. Much to your embarrassment, she started trying to make conversation with the Malfoys. 

“How are you?”

Lucius and Narcissa both looked up in a sort of haughty surprise, but their faces became more comfortable as they realized that they knew who you were. Your father worked at the Ministry with Lucius, though he often complained about his stances and methods. 

“Very well,” Lucius replied curtly, though for him it probably seemed the epitome of politeness.

Narcissa was more warm. “It’s bittersweet, sending them off.”  
Your mother smiled her agreement. “Isn’t it? Especially with the… goings on this year.”

Your mother, father, and the rest of the wizarding world at large seemed to know about something that was happening at Hogwarts this year that nobody had seen fit to tell you. 

You tuned out the conversation, thinking about how excited you were to finally get back to Hogwarts. You hadn’t seen Tracey, Sadie, Sebastian, or Simon all summer, and hadn’t heard anything from Simon at all - he was, after all, notoriously bad at writing letters.

Mostly, though, you were excited to see Dean. You had met up with him a couple of times over the summer, but nothing could compare to being able to be around him every day. You were already thinking about all the trips down to Hogsmeade, evenings in the Great Hall, sneaking off to see each other in the middle of the night. 

Your train of thought was interrupted as Draco returned from the dressing room, in normal robes now. He looked at you and smirked again, then left the room. His parents got up to follow. Madam Malkin bustled in a couple minutes later and made you stand in front of the mirror to get measured.

An hour later, new dress in hand, you left the shop. There were only a couple families still walking around Diagon. 

Your mother had tears in her eyes. “Mum,” you reminded her, “we still have another week before I leave.”

Your father had gotten you seats at the Quidditch World Cup, which you were absolutely buzzing about. 

She hugged you to her side. “I know, it’s just that - everything’s changing around here. You grow up so much every year, I can’t keep up.”

You hugged her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll update again in the next couple days with the quidditch world cup!
> 
> hope you all enjoyed, thanks as always for your comments and kudos :)


	9. The Quidditch World Cup

The roar of the crowd was invigorating as you and your father made your way up to your box. The Irish leprechauns were flipping through the air, lighting up the night, illuminating the joy on the faces of every witch and wizard that you passed. 

You saw a group of redheads moving through the crowd and, before you could think twice about it, called out, “Ron!”

Ron turned around and waved at you. You saw his older brothers and his younger sister behind him, and noticed Harry by his side. 

“Hi, Harry,” you added, and he smiled.  
“Hi, (Y/N).”

You quite liked Ron and Harry, and now that you were dating Dean, they seemed to be coming around to you too, despite your house. You hadn’t talked that much outside of Quidditch games and the odd study group you would join them for, but they were a good hang.

You were about to open your mouth to ask where they were sitting, but your voice died in your throat as you heard a different one - one that you knew well.

“Hello, Potter,” Draco practically spat.

You looked down to see Lucius standing a level below you, Draco at his side.

You tuned him out for a second as you saw someone coming out of the shadows behind him. Pansy, of course. Her brown hair was piled on top of her head glamorously, and she wore a short red dress. She wrapped her arm around Draco’s and smiled at you snakishly. She looked gorgeous. How unfortunate. 

“Father and I actually have seats in the Minister’s box,” you heard Draco say. You rolled your eyes, turning toward the Weasleys and accidentally making eye contact with one of his twin brothers, who was also rolling his eyes. He grinned at you. You smiled back. 

Soon both the Weasleys and the Malfoys were on their way, and you picked your way up to your own box, where, to your delight, you saw Cedric. 

You tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned, his face lighting up in a smile when he saw you. You gave him a hug, and you quickly fell into your easy pattern of talking Quidditch. 

“So, who are you backing?” He asked, and you showed off the green pin on your sweater.  
“Ireland, of course.”

He smiled back. “Me too.” He lowered his voice, “But I’m secretly rooting for Krum.”

You laughed, nodding your agreement. Krum was incredible. 

You two walked to the front of the box together and leaned over the railing, taking in the air around you. You spotted the Weasleys, Harry, and Granger at the top of the stadium.

The music swelled around the stadium as Krum flew in, and the walls lit up with an enlarged image of his face. You turned to Cedric and saw the same wonder and joy that you were feeling mirrored on his face. 

Cornelius Fudge’s voice began booming through the air, and you stuck your head out of the box to look out across the crowd, seeing people’s faces painted with joy and anticipation all around you. 

Then your eyes fell on the Malfoys. Draco, Lucius, and Narcissa were all sitting with perfect posture, all wearing a totally apathetic expression. Pansy sat beside Draco, leaning into his arm. The lights of the stadium reflected in her eyes, her dress perfectly accentuating her every feature. 

Looking at Draco and Pansy together, you understood why he was with her. She was beautiful, really - it was something you tried to ignore about her when she was being terrible, but tonight it could not be missed. And Draco next to her - well, his robes looked like they had been custom-made for him the day before, like he had a team of people following him around, making sure that not a strand of his hair was out of place. 

Yes, they looked good together, side by side. They were both beautiful, but in a sort of cruel way, a cold sort of way. 

You leaned out further, trying to get a better look at them, and suddenly felt hands on your waist pulling you back in. You turned around in surprise, dropping back down into the box. 

Cedric took his hands off your waist and laughed. “What was so important for you to see that you almost fell out of the box?” He asked.

“Just - everyone in the stands,” you said back, and he nodded knowingly. 

Then the match began, and your attention focused undividedly on it. 

After the match ended, you found Harry and the Weasleys in the crowd again. Fred and George were joyful, having just won a bet, Ron was singing the praises of one Viktor Krum, and Harry was laughing as he took the scene in. 

You and Cedric were hanging out in their tent with them when you heard something like a firework from outside. Then another one. 

Then the screams started. 

You and Harry got to the doors of the tent first. The night was dark and cold. 

Hooded figures were marching up the aisles of the tent, fire and destruction following them. You began to run, Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Cedric with you. 

Then you spotted him. Leaning against a tree, looking nonchalant, almost relaxed. Draco Malfoy. 

Harry charged up to him, the rest of you following. You looked back to see that Cedric wasn't there. You would’ve gone back to find him, but Harry had started yelling at Draco.

“Your father’s probably under one of those hoods,” he said, and Draco sneered. 

“Careful, Granger, it’s mudbloods they’re after,” he said back.

You could’ve punched the grin off his face. But looking at it closely, it didn’t seem much of a grin at all. 

“Granger, you need to leave,” he said more forcefully. 

Then you heard someone call your name, and you saw your father amidst the crowd, waving desperately for you to come to him. All at once, you felt fear blossom in your stomach. You turned away from everyone else and just ran to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is back at school! i'm almost finished editing year four and i'm really happy with it (well it definitely isn't happy but yanno...)
> 
> hope you guys enjoyed! i'm so looking forward to seeing your reactions to future chapters ;)


	10. Return to the Great Hall

You, Sadie, Sebastian, Simon, and Tracey walked into the Great Hall. The food was laid out on the table, smelling divine, and the candles floated high in the air. The staff chatted amongst themselves at the high table, the students at the house tables, and you knew the new first-years were outside, buzzing with excitement and fear. 

But you were only looking for one thing - one person, really. You parted from your friends to make your way to the other end of the hall, and - there, you caught sight of the back of his head and broke out into a run. 

He turned around just before you got to him, and his face lit up as he saw you. Dean. 

You threw your arms around him amidst the chaos of the crowd all walking to their seats, and tucked your head into his shoulders. You broke apart, but kept your arms around his neck and stared into his face, smiling. Grinning, really.

It had been a month since you two had last seen each other, and you felt like there were swarms of butterflies in your stomach as you looked up at him. 

Then he leaned down and kissed you, his arms tightening around the small of your back and pulling you closer. 

“Oi, mate, some of us are trying to sit down and eat,” you heard Ron say from behind him, and you two broke apart, laughing sheepishly. 

You leaned around him to wave hello to all his friends, and they all smiled back at you. Dean turned too, keeping one arm around your waist, and you had a short conversation with them. 

“I should let you sit,” you said to Dean, then, to the rest, “see you all later!”

He smiled, squeezing his hand around your waist, then releasing you to walk back over to the Slytherin table. You felt like you could break out into a skip or a dance as you walked back around the tables and sat down next to your friends. 

“Well,” Simon said, popping a grape into his mouth, “the passion certainly hasn’t died over the summer.”

You threw a grape at him, and he chuckled. “Careful, there,” he said, “I don’t think I need to remind you about what happened when you tried that second year.”

You were about to reply when Dumbledore raised his arms, silencing the hall. You looked towards the staff table, but instead made eye contact with Draco. He shot you a glare, and you glared back at him. The passion of your hatred for him hadn’t died over the summer either. 

Hatred. Definitely hatred.

You absentmindedly watched as the first years were sorted, clapping loudly whenever Slytherin gained a new member. Your eyes flicked over to Dean often, and you made eye contact with him a couple times. 

Sebastian punched you in the arm, breaking you out of your stupor, and gestured toward Dumbledore. 

“It is also my painful duty to inform you that the inter-house Quidditch Cup will not take place this year,” Dumbledore said, “This is due to an event that will be starting in October and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers’ time and energy, but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts-“

Suddenly, a door at the side of the castle banged open, and a man whose face was more scars than features walked inside. You heard the rumbling of thunder and crackling of lightning outside. A storm, you thought, smiling. You loved being in the dungeons when it rained, seeing the lake churning outside and hearing the rain pounding on its surface

“May I introduce our new Defence against the Dark Arts Teacher,” said Dumbledore, “Professor Moody.”

Then he turned and continued as if the man had never entered the castle in the first-place. “We are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event which has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.”

An uproar immediately followed his words. You looked at Sebastian with wide eyes, both of you breaking into a grin. 

“What’s the Triwizard Tournament?” Tracey hissed at the rest of you.

You let Sebastian explain in whispers as Dumbledore explained to the rest of the hall. 

“I’m definitely entering. Fancy me the Hogwarts champion?” Sebastian grinned, but he was cut off by Dumbledore informing the hall that nobody under the age of 17 would be allowed entrance. 

Sebastian’s jaw dropped, and you and Sadie laughed at him. Just as well, really, you thought. Sebastian would get himself killed in the first five minutes of the tournament trying to show off for whichever girl he had his eyes on that week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not a lot of draco in this one i know but rest assured ;)  
> thanks as always for the comments/kudos they're super motivating!


	11. The Bludger

A couple weeks into school was the first pickup game of the year, organized by you and Cedric. Since the inter-house Quidditch cup was cancelled, more students were itching for a chance to get on their brooms than ever, and what seemed like half the school had shown up to play or watch. 

Your team was stacked - Harry was playing Seeker, Cedric electing to play Chaser with you and Seamus instead. Dean and one of the Weasley twins were playing Beater, and you were trying Ron as Keeper. 

The other team’s only real threats were that Ron’s younger sister, who was fast on a broom, was playing Chaser, Sebastian was playing Keeper, and Draco was Seeker. 

Despite that, your team was still leading the charge easily. You, Cedric, and Seamus had established a pattern for passing the Quaffle, flying around in a triangle formation, helping to keep the opposing team away from you. Dean and whichever twin was beating for your team were performing well enough to have prevented anyone from getting hit yet, and Harry was hovering high above the pitch, looking for the Snitch. 

Ron was performing pretty well as Keeper, and the only real problem was that Sebastian was too. 

Nevertheless, you managed to get a shot by him, and cheered as you moved back towards the center of the pitch, sharing a smile with Dean. 

The next play went fast. Cedric whipped down the pitch, Quaffle in hand. Ginny Weasley was hot on his tail, though, so you called out to him and he sent the ball flying your way. 

You zipped toward the goal, getting closer and closer to Sebastian. At the last second, his face changed from one of easy competitiveness to a sort of fear. 

“THOMAS!” You heard a voice yell in rage, a voice that sounded suspiciously familiar, and then - 

Something hit you, something hard and firm and heavy - a bludger, you realized all at once, then you were slipping from your broom and falling, falling, falling…

You woke up to the scent of the hospital wing, and groaned as the light hit your eyes. 

“Simon, get up! She’s awake,” you heard Sadie’s voice say, and opened your eyes just in time to see her slap him with a rolled up newspaper. 

Then both their faces were hovering over you. 

“Do you remember what happened?” Sadie asked. 

You searched back in your mind. You remembered flying toward the goal, someone shouting, then pain.

“Um…” you supplied, and Sadie and Simon shared a look. 

“Do you remember who we are?” Simon asked, and Sadie pushed him lightly. “She doesn’t have dementia, you idiot,” she said, but then turned back to you with wide eyes, “wait, you do know who we are, don’t you?”

You cracked a smile. “Yeah.”  
“But you don’t remember what happened?”

You shrug. “I remember I was flying, then something hit me?”

“Yeah,” Sadie confirmed. “Crabbe hit you with a bludger and nobody blocked it. And, well, it just knocked you off your broom.”  
“Is my broom okay?” You asked.

“Yeah,” Simon confirmed, “Sebastian grabbed it.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, yawning. 

“Well, we have Double Charms in ten minutes, but we’ll be back in like two hours, okay?” Sadie said, and you nodded your agreement, already drifting back off. How like your friends, to spend all day waiting with you in the hospital wing, then leave as soon as you woke up so that they wouldn’t get in trouble for missing class.

When you woke up again, you saw a flash of platinum blond hair. 

“Draco?” You said sleepily, then your eyes popped open as you realized that you just used his first name. He stood a couple feet from your hospital bed, looking his usual shade of contemptuous. He didn’t say anything. The thought popped into your head that this might be a dream induced by whatever Pomfrey had you on. 

“Why are you here?” You asked into the silence.

Draco took a step toward you. “Visiting Blaise. He got burned in Potions.”

You looked around, but didn’t see Blaise anywhere. You decided not to mention it, instead staring at Draco as he took a couple strides toward you. His brow furrowed.

“You feeling alright?” He asked.

You thought of the way he looked at the Quidditch World Cup, how his hair was perfectly parted, how his robes hung off him. You remembered what you had thought, that he looked cold, untouchable. 

It occurred to you that a very different Draco was in front of you now. Yes, his robes looked like they had been steamed and pressed that very morning, but his hair was a bit messy, and the expression on his face was less casual judgement and more - well, you weren’t really sure what it was. 

You realized that he had asked you a question. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You answered. 

“I told Crabbe - well, I dealt with Crabbe,” he sneered, sounding as if he was talking about an inferior life form. 

“Dealt with him?”  
“Yes.”  
“What does that mean?”

He scoffed. “What do you think it means? Are you always this dim, or did you hit your head on your way down?”  
“I did, actually. Pity it wasn't bad enough for me to forget about you.”

He smirked, eyes trailing from your face down to your body, which was hidden under the sheets of the hospital bed. 

“Can you still play?” He asked after a couple seconds of silence.

Oh. You should’ve known that was what he was worried about. You were going to go out for Quidditch this year before the cup was cancelled. He just wanted the Slytherin team to be good - that explained why he was here.

“Yes,” you answered simply, “if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He looked confused. “What else would I be worried about?”

How you wished you could get out of your bed and give him a good punch to the jaw. The only time you had ever envied Granger was last year when she had done that very thing. You were about to open your mouth and reply with something appropriately biting when you heard the door swing open again. 

Dean stood in the doorway, flowers in one hand. He smiled brightly at you, but it faded rather quickly when his eyes flicked over to Draco. You followed Dean’s gaze to see that Draco was wearing his usual expression of distaste and superiority. You turned back to Dean.

“Dean,” you said happily. He motioned towards Draco with the flowers. 

“What is he doing here?”   
“He was visiting Blaise,” you answered quickly, unsure why you were getting so defensive. It wasn't like you invited Malfoy in.

“I don’t see Zabini,” Dean observed.  
“He just came in to make sure I could still play Quidditch,” you said. 

Dean and Draco made prolonged eye contact. 

“Well, she can,” Dean replied coldly, “so you can leave.”

Draco took a step toward him. “Yeah, she can, no thanks to you.”  
“What does that mean?”  
“That means that if you had been doing your job, she wouldn’t have gotten hit.”  
“Crabbe hit her.”  
“Yeah, but you didn’t block it, did you. Too busy talking to one of the Weasley clones?”

“Malfoy, stop,” you said, but neither he nor Dean acknowledged you.

“It was a pickup game. Crabbe shouldn’t have been targeting her like that.”  
“You were playing beater, Thomas. She got hit with a bludger. Are you trying to blame that on someone else?”

“Malfoy, seriously, stop,” you said, this time more forcefully. 

He turned around then, acknowledging you with an angry look. 

“Fine. But he almost got you killed. You ask me, he’s trying to sabotage our team.”

Draco left then, shoulder checking Dean on the way out. Dean looked angry for a second, but then shook it off and smiled at you. You loved that about him - the way he could shake off annoyance and calm himself down with ease. 

“What a dick,” he said, walking over to your bedside and putting the flowers down on the table next to you.

“I am sorry, though,” he continued, sheepish, “I do feel bad. Maybe if I could fly a bit faster I could’ve prevented it.”  
“No,” you replied, “you’re right. Crabbe shouldn’t have been hitting that hard in the first place. Not your fault.”

He leaned down and hugged you, then pulled up a chair. Even though whatever was pumping through your body - healing your skin and mending your bones - was making you tired, you wanted to stay awake for Dean. You smiled as he started talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you guys enjoyed! thanks as always for the comments/kudos and i'll be back tomorrow/the next day to update :)


	12. The Library

Weeks later, finally all healed, you and Sadie sat in the library studying for your Charms test Friday. Well, you _had_ been studying, but after a while the discussion had devolved into talking about whether or not Harry had rigged the Goblet of Fire. 

“He had to have,” Sadie said, “I mean, how else is that possible?”  
“You think Harry Potter outsmarted Dumbledore’s spell?” You countered. 

Sadie chewed her lip and shrugged. “Well, maybe? I don’t know.”  
“Either way, I can’t wait for the first task,” you smiled. 

Rumors had been buzzing around school for weeks. Apparently, Harry had told Cedric what the first task entailed, and, even though you begged for the better part of an hour, he had refused to pass along that information to you.

Whatever it was, he seemed equal parts scared and excited, which probably meant the challenge would, at the very least, be fun to watch. 

As you mused over the possibilities, Sadie leaned over and started shifting through the stacks of papers and books that had been abandoned at your feet. 

“Shit,” she said, realization dawning on her face, “I have Defense Against the Dark Arts in ten minutes. I gotta go.”

You laughed as she scrambled around the library floor, picking up papers and frantically flipping through them to distinguish which were hers and which were yours. You exchanged hurried goodbyes with her, watching as she sprinted through the aisles towards the exit.

You sighed, picking up a discarded piece of parchment and resolving that you would finish your Divination homework before you went back to the common room. 

Usually, making up predictions was easy, but over the year you had been doing it, finding fresh takes had become harder and harder. 

You hummed lightly to yourself as you scribbled down your first prediction: _I will see... my greatest... fears... realized._

You heard a mean chuckle from behind you, and whipped your head around to see Draco Malfoy standing above your shoulder. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, annoyed. 

He walked around your chair and swung into the spot that Sadie had just vacated. As usual, he was smirking. 

“Your greatest fears realized?” He said mockingly.  
“Were you just waiting for Sadie to leave so that you could come bother me?” You tried to make your voice sound unbothered.

He grinned. “As a matter of fact, yes. And if I remember correctly, you already used that prediction on me last year.”

You fought between the urge to bite back with a quick insult and the urge to question him further. Had you already used that prediction? Say what you would about Trelawney, but she did have a peculiarly long and precise memory. Sebastian had gotten in trouble countless times for recycling predictions.

Unsure of what to say, you just stayed silent, causing Draco to raise his eyebrows at you. 

“Has your mouth stopped working?” He wondered aloud, “I’ve been hoping that would happen for years, but I never thought I’d be so lucky.”

You scoffed. “Did I actually already predict that, or are you just trying to bother me?”

“I’m _succeeding_ in bothering you,” he confirmed, “but yes, you did. And Daley used it on you, too.”

How like him to have been eavesdropping on your conversations. Nosey prick. 

You threw down your piece of parchment, hunting around the mess at your feet for another one. You stared at it blankly, trying to conjure up any semblance of a prediction, but you were thrown off by your uncomfortable awareness that Malfoy was still sitting next to you. 

“Trouble thinking of something?” He interrupted whatever was left of your train of thought.  
“If you must know, yes.”

“Why don’t you predict that a friend will fall ill. Or just fall. Or maybe that an unexpected guest will enter your life.”

You looked up at him, rolling your eyes. “Let me guess, you turned in those exact same predictions last week and you want to get me in trouble for copying you.”  
“I didn’t, actually, but cheers for the idea.”

He took a huge bite out of an apple. You needed new predictions - that much was true - but there was no way that this wasn't some sort of trick.

“You think it’s a trick?” He said, reading your mind. “I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble, (Y/L/N). You know I want you on the Quidditch team.”

You bristled in anger at that. Flint had come up to you in the common room last week and told you that he was barring you from tryouts. You guessed it was some sort of flimsy revenge for breaking his nose last year. 

“I’m not allowed on the team, Malfoy. Thanks for rubbing the wound.”

He grimaced. “Flint already told you, did he?”  
“Yeah, he did.”

Malfoy took another bite out of his apple, shrugging. You looked back down at your parchment, which was tauntingly blank. You sighed. 

“I’ll kill you if this gets me in trouble,” you said, bending over slightly to scribble down the two predictions he had given you earlier. 

“You could try,” he said, “but I doubt you’d have much success. Besides, even if you somehow caught me off guard, my father would have the whole Ministry on you in no time.”  
“I’m sure your ghost would get off on that.” You rolled your eyes.

You finished writing his first two, looking back up at him when you were through with eyebrows raised. 

“What, you want me to give you three more?” He said, decoding your look. “Using me outright, I see.”  
“Well, if you insist on bothering me while I’m trying to study, I may as well get something out of it.”

He got up from Sadie’s chair, spinning his wand around in his fingers. 

“No thanks. I have more important things to do with my time,” he said, turning heel and walking down the corridor. You watched after him, quill dangling from your hand stupidly. 

Halfway down the aisle, he turned around, catching you staring at him. You shot your head back down, staring at your parchment like it was the most interesting thing in the world. You heard him laugh in that way of his, and you could picture exactly how smug he looked even without seeing his face.

 _I should go find Dean,_ you thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a bit of a filler but i actually really like how it turned out!
> 
> thanks for your comments/kudos, i hope you all enjoyed :)


	13. Potions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! just wanted to warn you that there are some depictions of violence in this chapter, specifically dating violence - nothing intense/graphic at all, but thought i should let you know.

Potions was one of your best classes - it would’ve maybe been your best if you weren’t always Simon’s partner. 

No matter how perfectly you mixed the ingredients, Simon always found some clumsy way of pouring them in wrong or mixing clockwise instead of counterclockwise. 

But you had Potions with Ravenclaw, and you weren’t really friends with any Ravenclaws, and Simon was the only person from Slytherin that you could actually tolerate in the class. The rest of the Slytherin population quota was made up of Malfoy and his groupies.

Needless to say, when you walked into the classroom only to see that Simon had apparently skipped class today, you felt a sinking feeling in your stomach. Usually he at least warned you or made sure to skip on a day that you wouldn’t have to do partner work. 

You made up your mind to have a good yell at him later, sinking down into your chair and hoping that you would be allowed to brew on your own.

“You’ll be brewing in pairs today,” drawled Snape, and your stomach sank.

You scanned the room to see if there were any Ravenclaws who you wouldn’t mind working with, but they were all pairing off amongst themselves. Typical of them, really. 

Inwardly groaning, you turned toward the Slytherin half of the room, resigning yourself to having to work with one of Malfoy’s annoying lackeys. You saw Crabbe and Goyle turn to each other - not that you would have even considered working with either of them anyway. Blaise wasn't horrible, you thought, but he would probably be working with Malfoy like usual.

You looked toward him, seeing him turn to Malfoy, but Draco said something that made him raise his eyebrows and turn back around. He got up and walked over to Millicent Bulstrode, and they paired up. 

Your heart sank as it became clear what was about to happen.

“Professor,” Malfoy said, “I don’t have a partner.”

Snape looked up, quickly scanning the room. “I believe you are perfectly capable of using your eyes, Malfoy. Then again, if you were, perhaps you would have seen Ms. (Y/L/N) so obviously unattended.”

Malfoy smirked at you, walking across the room and behind your table. 

“I saw what you did with Blaise,” you said, turning away from him and busying yourself with arranging the ingredients.

“So you’ve been watching me again?” He asked.  
“I have never and will never _watch_ you, Malfoy,” you replied.

He chuckled meanly, picking up a knife and starting to cut the Tentacula roots. 

“I caught you staring at me in the library just yesterday,” he said, voice casual yet cutting.  
“Only because you were pissing me off,” you countered.  
“Yeah, you looked _really_ pissed,” he said in a low voice, clearly mocking you. 

You grimaced, taking the roots he had cut and sprinkling them slowly into the boiling water in your cauldron. You steeled yourself, deciding that you would ignore him for the rest of the lesson. Seriously, he had to get a new hobby besides following you around and pissing you off.

“Want to know what you actually looked like?” He asked, loudly enough that you saw Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle look up from the other side of the room - watching the show that he was inevitably going to put on.

 _Ignore him_ , you thought, tying your hair back in a lazy knot and grabbing the stirring spoon from the side of your table. 

But Malfoy had other ideas. He grabbed the other side of the spoon, forcing you to look up at him in annoyance as you tried to tug it out of his firm grip.

“You looked like this,” he said, then made his eyes go wide and his mouth curl up into a soft smile. He blinked slowly at you, the smile growing a bit wider, his eyes softening.

Then, a half second later, his face relaxed into its usual easy smugness. He shot a look over at his friends, who were chuckling. You willed yourself not to blush. You willed yourself not to smack him with the stirring spoon, for that matter. Leave it to Malfoy to make you the butt of a joke in one of the only classes you actually enjoyed. Dickhead.

“Admit it,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

“Admit what?” you asked, contorting your face into a tight, mean smile. “That I fancy you? I’m not even surprised you think so, honestly - you’re so arrogant you probably think every girl in the school wants you in her pants. I guess that’s blinded you to the fact that I can’t stand you.”

You heard Blaise let out a low whistle at that, and you thought you saw Malfoy’s facade of easy superiority crack a little bit. Satisfied, you turned back to the cauldron, stirring it clockwise and watching for the mixture to turn its telltale shade of pink.

“You _can_ stand me,” you heard Malfoy say from beside you, and in your periphery saw his hands working on stripping the outer layers away from the moonstone as he spoke. His voice had been stripped of its usual mockery, though, so you counted it as a win. Or as much of a win as it could be, considering the circumstances meant that you had to stick around him. 

“Whatever I did to give you that impression, I promise I didn’t mean,” You said shortly.

The mixture bubbled pink, and you quickly pulled out the spoon and held out your hands for Malfoy to put the moonstone in. Instead, he turned and put it in the cauldron himself. It was just the type of casual dickhead behavior that he was always putting on. You continued working, consulting the recipe and grabbing some spider legs from the shelf to chop as Malfoy stood vigil over the cauldron, waiting to stir again. 

You hated to admit it, but Malfoy knew what he was doing. This might be the longest hour of your life, but at least you would come out the other side with good marks. 

At some point, as you were cutting the spider legs into quarters, Malfoy moved behind you. You didn’t notice until one of his hands came up to rest lightly on your wrist.

You whipped around to him, a look of what must have been absolute horror on your face. 

He ignored you, pressing his hand into your side. 

“What the hell -” you started, but he cut you off.

“Could you move?” he said condescendingly, and you realized he was just trying to push you aside. 

You scowled at him, sidestepping and moving the cutting board along with you. Honestly, he could’ve just asked you. Saved you from the embarrassment. Then again, he had never done anything to save you from embarrassment before. Quite the opposite, actually. 

“Done with the legs?” He asked.

You pushed the cutting board full of chopped spider digits back towards him by way of answer. He grabbed the board and held it above the cauldron, shaking it so that the legs slid into the mixture.

They splashed into the draught, and a drop of it hit you in the face.

“Did you really have to pour them in from two feet above?” You said, voice rife with irritation.

He looked up at you, smirking. “You have a bit on your cheek,” he said, and his hand came up towards your face. You batted it away from you.

“Funny, Malfoy.” You swiped your hand across your face, hoping that you got it.  
“I wasn't trying to be funny. I was trying to get the drop off your face.”  
“Yeah, what, so you could make fun of how I looked after?”

He chuckled. “I could make fun of how you look anytime, (Y/L/N). I don’t need the excuse.”  
“Calling me ugly now? How inventive of you.”

“Hardly ugly,” he said, then leaned in towards your face. You went to move away, but he was already speaking, his voice low and quiet. “You just always look like you really, really fucking fancy me.”

Shooting him a look that you thought was sufficient enough to prove otherwise, you sat down in your chair. The potion just had to sit for ten minutes now, and you were completely finished engaging with Malfoy. You could feel yourself scowling as you went over your conversation in your head. 

Thankfully, he didn’t try to make conversation. You sat for a while as you waited for Snape to come over and inspect your cauldron. He had started on the opposite side of the room, and you knew that his need to make pointedly rude and cutting comments towards everyone’s brews would mean that he wouldn’t reach you and Draco for at least five minutes. 

He couldn’t possibly think you fancied him. No, of course he didn’t. He was just winding you up. The same thing he did to everyone. It was just affecting you because it was Malfoy, and his one skill in the world was finding anyone’s weak spot and probing at it. 

Well. Not that he was your weak spot. You weren’t even sure what that would mean. Clearly he just knew how to annoy you, as he’d been doing since first year. Only this felt a lot different than first year.

Suddenly, you felt his hand graze your thigh. You snapped your head toward him.

“What the fuck are you -”

He grinned. “Sorry. I was trying to grab my book.” Then: “Unless you want me to keep it there.”

You scoffed, your jaw dropping in disgust at the prospect. You were opening your mouth to tell him so when his hand had the audacity to squeeze around your thigh. You slapped it instinctively, and he laughed, putting it back on the top of the table. 

“Malfoy, what are you doing?” You hissed.  
“Having a little fun,” he said.  
“Well, stop.”

He grinned. “If you want. You looked like you were enjoying it.”

That was it. You could never stand him in the first place, but after this whole ordeal you didn’t know how you could ever fight the urge to slap him again. 

Snape walked over to you then, inspecting the color and consistency of your potion.

“Acceptable work, Mr. Malfoy and Ms. (Y/L/N). We’ll see how it holds up after we let it marinate overnight.”

You smiled. Snape’s “acceptable” was equivalent to any other teachers' “exceptional.”

Everyone else seemed in a hurry to leave, chatting to their friends as they packed up. 

“You’ll clean up,” Malfoy said, and, before you could even protest, walked over towards Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle. 

Not wanting to shout across the classroom at him - he would probably find some way to feed that into his newfound narrative of you fancying him - you just sighed in frustration and starting pouring your potion into the vials. You ended up being the last one in the classroom, taking your time pouring and cleaning up your area. As you were about to leave, Snape spoke. 

“Ms. (Y/L/N).”

You turned around. “Yes, professor?”  
“You might want to consider switching partners from Mr. Dedworth to Mr. Malfoy permanently. I think it would have quite a positive effect on your work.”

You paused, not wanting to tell him that you would rather fail out of Potions than work with Malfoy every day. Or ever again. So you just settled for a “Thanks Professor, I’ll consider it.”  
“Do.” He said shortly.

You left the room then and decided that you should go see Dean. You were pretty sure he had a free period, and you might be able to convince him to go steal some food from the kitchens and have a little picnic in one of the courtyards. You smiled at the thought, all angriness about the Malfoy thing dissipating from your mind. 

That was the Dean effect - he made you forget about everything that was making you pissed off or stressed out. It was the opposite of the Malfoy effect - Draco was the one who was pissing your off and stressing you out in the first place.

You were so distracted as you ran up the stairs that you didn’t even notice when they started moving. Unable to get off, you just held onto the railing and waited until they touched down on another landing. 

Sighing in annoyance, you started walking down the unfamiliar hall. You knew better than to try to go back down the stairs once they had moved - they were apt to move again, and then you could end up who knows where once you reached the bottom again. No, better to take your chances here. Wherever you were. 

Nobody except the portraits seem to be around, so you just started walking to your right and hoped to come across a part of the castle you recognized.

You must have been on the fourth floor, because you didn’t hear the usual buzz of classes going on around you. There was a reason the broom closet up here was Sebastian's spot - there was almost no chance of getting caught. 

Well, there was an idea. You could just find the broom closet and go from there. You reached a split in the corridor, and turned to your right. Then another split way. You took another right. 

You heard faint voices coming from somewhere down the way. Hoping that they would know how to get out of here, you moved quicker toward them. 

Then stopped short. The voices were yelling. And they belonged to two people you knew very well. Pansy and Draco. 

Just your luck, honestly. It sounded like they were just around the corner. You were about to turn around and chance it going back the other way when it occurred to you that they were arguing. And that you would be very, very interested in eavesdropping. 

If only to have a good story to tell your friends later tonight.

“I thought I told you that already!” Pansy said, anger apparent in her voice.  
“It’s not my fault, Pans, Snape switched us,” Draco returned in a much calmer voice.  
“Yeah, but you didn’t have to talk to her, did you?!” 

You realized with a jolt that they were talking about you. You wondered how Pansy had gotten word of what happened last period already - but she was Pansy Parkinson, after all. Your friends joked she was destined to run the gossip column of the Daily Prophet. 

“I didn’t say anything that wasn't about Potions.”  
“Oh, what, and I’m supposed to just believe that? I know you, Draco.”  
“Meaning what?” Draco’s voice was getting angrier, louder.

Curiosity getting the best of you, you peered around the corner to see that Draco and Pansy were standing in the middle of the hallway, clearly operating under the impression that nobody else would be in this part of the castle.

“Meaning, I see how you - how you are with her!”  
“I’m not any way with her, Pansy! I don’t fucking like her!”  
“That’s rich, because I seem to remember you telling Crabbe -”  
“Oh, don't bring that up, it was meaningless.”  
“So it’s true!” Pansy shouted.  
“Don’t fucking yell at me!” Draco said back, his voice strained with anger.

It happened all at once. Pansy raised her hand and it arched through the air with grace, curving towards Draco’s cheek and hitting its mark with ease and a sickening sound. You gasped quietly, your heart thundering. You felt a strange urge to step in.

You remembered that night last year, that night when you had broken Flint’s nose. How you had raised your hand to try to help Draco up and he had flinched. 

“Tell me I’m wrong, Draco! Tell me!”  
“Pansy, you need to -”

She raised her arm again, and your stomach squeezed with adrenaline. You ran forward into the hallway, determined to stop her, but Draco caught her arm mid slap, pinning her hands to her side and backing her against the castle wall.

You stopped short. For half a second, you thought that he might hurt her, but no, you couldn’t picture him doing that, not really. So what was he -

Then he kissed her, pushing her against the wall.

You’d kissed Sebastian in first year, before you had decided you were better off as friends. You’d kissed Tristan and Harper second year. You’d kissed Dean a million times. You’d seen Tracey kiss Michael Corner at a party, and you’d seen Sebastian kiss a myriad number of girls at a myriad number of parties. 

You’d even seen Pansy and Draco kiss before, on the first night of term last year in the Slytherin common room and in the train on the last day. But not like this. 

She wrapped her arms around him, snaking one into his hair, and his arms held her body off the ground. It felt like something that you should never have seen, like something that nobody should ever have seen. Draco’s left cheek was bright red where Pansy had slapped him. 

It seemed dangerous and serpentine. You recoiled, reminded of the way they had looked together at the Quidditch World Cup. Beautiful and terrible. 

He broke away from her, repositioning slightly. You realized too late that he was turning towards you, but there was no way you could get back behind the wall - and just like that, you made eye contact.

A strange expression gripped his face. Not angry, you could see that much. You knew all the shades of his anger by now, and this was something different. Pansy began to turn to see what he was looking at, but he quickly captured her face in another kiss. As he kissed her, he looked back at you, eyes wide and never leaving yours.

Your heart pounding, you turned and fled, all thoughts of having a picnic with Dean erased from your mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for all your kudos/comments - it's so motivating and i LOVE seeing what you guys think!


	14. The First Task

You had been in the library all day when you weren’t in classes, trying to distract yourself from what you had seen in the hallway. Pansy and Draco, the way she had hit him, the way he had kissed her.

You almost didn’t want to go back to the dungeons, but it was getting dark outside and the library was cold at night compared to the roaring heat of the fires. 

You walked into the common room quietly, breathing a slide of relief as you noticed that neither Draco nor Pansy was inside. You thought about making a detour into Simon and Sebastian’s room to chat with them before bed, but you were tired. 

And Malfoy could come into the common room while you were in there, and then you’d have to see him. And he would see you. And that would just be a mess. No, you should just go upstairs.

You opened the door to your room, ready to put your hair up and just go to sleep. 

But there he was. 

This was the second time that Draco had just come into your room and sat on your bed without permission while you were gone. You felt a flicker of annoyance, but it was quickly overtaken by dread as you realized that there could only be one reason why he was here. 

He looked up as you walked in the door, immediately standing up from your bed and walking towards you. 

“About what you saw,” he started, getting up and walking towards you, “I wanted to…”

He trailed off. 

“About what I saw…” you repeated, unsure of how to proceed.

“Me and Pansy and everything. Us arguing, and then, well, you saw everything, didn’t you?” He looked back up at you.

You nodded. “Yes,” you said carefully, “I saw everything.”  
“And you heard everything?”  
“I heard some things.”  
“What things.”  
“I know why she was mad at you.”

Draco nodded again. He took a step backward as if he was going to sit back down on your bed, but thought better of it. 

The contrast between the boy standing in front of you now and the one who had been standing beside you in Potions class was monumental. 

“I don’t know what to say,” you said.  
“Don’t say anything,” he implored, “you can’t say anything about it to anyone. Understand?”

It was shocking how he still injected notes of arrogance and superiority into his voice even when he was asking you to do something for him. Usually, you would get angry with him, but this situation was just so - different. You just felt confused.

“I wasn't going to,” you said, truthfully.  
“You better not.”

You glared at him then. He was pushing it. “I’ll add it to the list of things that I can’t tell people about you.”

A list that included what had happened the last time he had been in your room. 

“Right.” He said softly, “yeah. The list.” He ran his hand through his hair.

You weren’t sure what to say then. It seemed in poor taste to kick him out of your room while he was clearly distressed. 

“Why did you kiss her?” You heard yourself say. You hadn’t really thought through asking it. 

He looked up, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, after she - you know.” You couldn’t bring yourself to say it. It still seemed so - fake, like something that would never happen to him. “You kissed her. Why?”  
“So that she wouldn’t do it again.” He said simply.

Your mind reeled back to the way her hand had arched through the air, almost with finesse, as if it was a practiced move. 

He sat back on your bed, looking down at the floor, his hands drumming on his legs. 

“You shouldn’t be with her.” You said forcefully. 

He laughed, but it came out sad. “More proof that you want me for yourself.”  
“I just don’t think you should be with her. I mean - nobody should be with her.”

He didn’t say anything then. He just started walking toward the door, and you stepped aside so that he could leave. 

He stopped before he left the room, turned to you, then all at once his arms were wrapped around you. 

He hugged you tightly, and after a couple of seconds of stiffness you picked your arms up and wrapped them around him too. It struck you that it must be a bit lonely, being him. 

“You shouldn’t be with him, either,” he said, so quiet that you barely heard him.  
“What?” You asked.

But he didn’t answer. He just pulled himself away from you and walked out the door.  
____________________________________________

Harry was the last one to enter the arena. You had watched Cedric face off with his dragon on the edge of your seat, heart pounding in fear, but each of the three champions so far had been successful, so you had high hopes for Harry. 

Despite wanting to sit with Dean, you were stuck in the Slytherin stands, which wasn't all bad seeing as Sadie, Tracey, and Sebastian had come with you. 

But the last dragon they brought into the arena - Harry’s dragon - seemed worse than the rest. It roared into the air, letting out a huge jet of fire and shaking against its chains. You gripped Tracey’s arm as you saw him emerge. 

At first, it seemed like he had no idea what he was doing. He raised his wand and yelled an incantation that you couldn’t hear, but nothing seemed to happen - the dragon seemed just as horrifying, the egg just as far away. 

Almost nobody else in Slytherin was cheering for Harry - Draco had seen to that - but you had gotten relatively close to him through your relationship with Dean.

The dragon roared at him, and he leapt behind a rock. “Come on, Harry!” you shouted, earning yourself a few dirty looks. 

Sebastian laughed at you. 

But suddenly you saw it - flying through the air and straight toward him - his Firebolt. 

“Brilliant!” You said to yourself. None of the other champions had thought to summon anything, and the whole school knew how good Harry was with a broom. 

But as he began to maneuver around the dragon, it shook loose from its chains so that Harry had to fly out of the arena and back towards the school. The dragon rose into the air in hot pursuit. 

You stood up from your seat, trying to see what was happening, but they were too far away. Tracey tugged on your arm. 

“Sit down,” she said, “people are going to hate you for this.”  
“I don’t care,” you said, and she chuckled. 

“Fair enough, then.” She replied. 

It seemed like hours went by before you saw him speeding through the air, zipping back into the stadium and grabbing the egg. You whistled and cheered, jumping up and down. Across the stadium, you could hear the Gryffindors chanting his name.  
________________________________________________________

You were walking through the school the day after the first task when an arm came out of a hallway and pulled you into it. 

It was Malfoy. 

“You really have a problem with tugging on my robes, Malfoy,” you said.  
“And you really have a problem cheering Potter on like that.”

You rolled your eyes. Of course he was pissed about that. It was common knowledge in Slytherin - Hogwarts in general, really - that Draco and Harry had an ongoing feud. Thus, everyone else in Slytherin had refrained from rooting for Harry in the first task. 

It all seemed a bit silly to you, anyway. It wasn't like your friends were on their feet singing for Harry, but they didn’t care that you did. Leave it to Draco to expect other people to carry out his own battles for him.

“Does it matter to you whether or not I cheer for Harry? You had the rest of Slytherin deathly quiet.”  
“You can’t help yourself, can you? Going on about how he was so _brilliant_ for summoning his broom, as if I couldn’t have thought of that myself.”

You almost laughed - almost told him that actually, he probably couldn’t have thought of that himself. And it _was_ brilliant. But instead, your ears stuck to something else he had said. 

“Can’t help myself? What does that mean?”

Draco scoffed. “Means you’re into Potter now, aren’t you.”  
“What?” you said, your eyebrows shooting up. “I’m not into Potter.”  
“You sure made it sound like you are.”

“Malfoy, I’m dating Dean. I’m not into Harry.”

He scoffed. “Thomas. Right. Yeah.”  
“Right.” You said. “So I’ll go now.”

You turned to leave, walking a few steps before -

“Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn’t be.”

You turned back around. “What?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be. With Thomas.”  
“I’m sorry?”  
“He… he let you get hit at Quidditch.”  
“That wasn't his fault.”

Draco took a step towards you. “You’re settling for him.”

You resented the implication. It wasn't even an implication - he had just said it outright. Of _course_ you weren’t settling for Dean. 

You shook your head. “No, I’m not. I love him.”  
“You don’t.”

“So you’re gonna tell me how I feel?” You were angry now, really angry. “Besides, you can’t talk, not while you’re still dating Pansy.”

“So you care that I’m with Pansy.”  
“ _What?_ No, I just -”  
“You think I shouldn’t be with her.”  
“She’s horrible. Nobody should be with her.”

“So you do care.”  
“I just don’t understand.”

You stood in silence then, a face off in some random corner of the castle. He searched you, eyes narrowing. You tried to go back over the conversation in your head, trying to remember how him getting mad at you for cheering Harry on had led to a frank discussion about his relationship with Pansy. 

It seemed like he was mulling things over too.

“My father likes her,” he said finally.  
“Of course - it’s always about your father with you, isn’t it.”

He paused. “Not always.”

“When is it not?”  
“With you.”

You blinked, trying to process what he just said. “I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t,” he said, “you never do.” Despite his words, his tone wasn't mean.

You wondered whether or not you should leave, but he made the decision for you, brushing by you and walking out into the hallway. 

You let your mind wander for a second, searching for meaning behind his words, but of course there wasn't any. The only thing you didn’t understand was how you two kept getting into these situations.


	15. The Note

It was the day of the second task, but you and your friends had decided you would rather stay at the castle than spend the day standing on structures in the middle of the lake waiting for people to emerge from the water. It sounded extremely boring, if you were being honest, and you had already wished Cedric luck at breakfast.

You had just gone to get some lunch from the kitchens, and were on your way to bring it to one of the courtyards when you saw Pansy Parkinson turn the corner at the end of the hallway and walk right towards you. 

At first, you thought it was just an unfortunate coincidence, but her eyes stayed on you like a predator stalking prey. She cornered you against the hallway wall. 

“You stay away from my boyfriend,” she hissed at you.  
“I try to,” you fired back immediately. The tone was set.

“Oh, that’s funny,” she fumed, “because people have been telling me that that’s not the case.”  
“Who?”  
“Everyone, that’s who. Blaise told me how you were all over Draco in Potions. So I’ll say it again. Stay. Away.”

You scoffed. “ Malfoy and I were just assigned partners. I’m not trying it on with him.”

“Oh no? Because Marcus saw him leave your room last week. So tell me it’s not true.”  
“Marcus hates me. He already kicked me off Quidditch, of course he would lie to you.”

She growled. “Don’t bother lying. Millicent saw him leave too.”

You struggled for a second with whether or not to keep lying to her, but you couldn’t see it doing you any good in the long run, and it seemed stupid to try when she clearly already knew the truth. 

“Fine,” you said finally, “he was in my room.”

She grabbed your arm, digging her long, sharp nails into it. 

“Get off me.” You spat.  
“I don’t think I will. What did you do with him?”

“Nothing,” you said, trying to shake your arm out of her grip.

“Oh, yeah, right, he just came into your room to do ‘nothing’ with you. I know him too well to believe that.”

“I swear you might be brain dead, Parkinson. I’m dating Dean.”  
“Well clearly you don’t care that he’s cheating on me - why would you care that you’re cheating on Thomas?”

She twisted your arm then, digging her nails in further. 

“He’s not cheating on you. Get off me.” You said again.  
“No. Tell me what happened.”

You grabbed your wand with your left hand. “ _Flipendo,_ ” you said simply, and Pansy flew through the air, landing on the ground at the other end of the hallway.

“Come after me again and I won’t choose such a kind spell,” you said coldly. 

She got up, eyes dark with rage. “Watch your back, (Y/L/N).”

You sneered. “You look so intimidating on the floor like that, Parkinson. I’m shaking with fear.”

There was a note on your bed when you returned to your room that night - and there was only one person who thought it appropriate to sneak into your room when you weren’t there. 

“Meet me by the lake tonight at 9. We need to talk. -Draco.” The note said. 

Maybe this would be another one of his award-worthy non-apologies. Either way, you were glad that he had taken it upon himself to actually set up a meeting place instead of just showing up in your room or grabbing you and pulling you into an alley. 

You showed up at the lake a little past 9, and you saw his figure standing by the shore.

“Malfoy,” you said, and he looked up, a wary expression on his face.  
“(Y/L/N),” he allowed, nodding at you. 

You walked up to him, hugging your arms around your body. It was getting colder now, and your sweater was light against the chill of the late fall air. You stood there awkwardly for a second.

“Is this about what I saw with you and Pansy again? Or about Harry?” You asked. You couldn’t really think of any other reason that he would have written to you. Whatever it was, it was clearly important - important enough that he would actually set up a meeting to talk about it. 

So then why did he look so confused?

“Why are you asking me?” He asked, voice soft against the darkness.  
“Because you’re the one who said you wanted to talk to me,” you answered, notes of question seeping into your voice. 

His eyes flickered with confusion again. You noticed that you two were closer than you had been when the conversation began. Blame the cold air. 

He blinked. “You left me a note.”  
“You left _me_ a note.”

You looked at each other, both confused. 

“Well if neither of us did, then who was it?” Draco asked softly. 

“I told you.” You heard a voice say, and you turned around to see Pansy Parkinson emerging from the shadows of the treeline. But there was someone else behind her, and you squinted to make out who it was. He walked out of the shadows behind her, tall and confused, and - no. No.

But there he was. Dean. Standing next to Pansy with confusion and surprise painted into the lines of his face. 

Draco quickly took a step back from you, putting distance between your frames. You couldn’t help but think that the only thing that did was draw attention to how close you two had been to begin with. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, but the pieces were already coming together in your mind. Pansy looked so smug, so self-satisfied - as if she had just orchestrated the perfect plan. You remembered her threat to you earlier. 

“Just proving something to your boyfriend here,” she said. “He didn’t believe me when I told him that you and Draco have been hooking up. But now you can see it with your own eyes, Thomas.”

Dean’s surprise was quickly turning to anger. “What the fuck, (Y/N)?”

“This isn’t what it looks like,” you said quickly, your head buzzing, trying to think of the perfect thing to say, the thing that could diffuse the whole situation and explain everything perfectly. 

But it was always Dean who knew how to diffuse and calm, not you. 

“How could it be anything else?” He countered.  
“It’s nothing - we both got these notes that said to meet here - we didn’t write them - it’s -”

Pansy smirked, satisfied. You didn’t know how you hadn’t recognized her handwriting - you had been assigned to read over some of her papers over the years. Your attention snapped back to Dean at once as he started talking again. 

“Oh, so this was all a set up?” He said, incredulous, scornful.  
“Yes,” you said, taking a step toward him, hands up in front of you as if seeing them would miraculously calm him down. “Dean, please believe me.”

“Right, so someone tricked you two into coming here. But you still wanted to hang around him at the lake at night? And I suppose someone forced you guys to be that close? And forced you to be smiling at each other like that?”

“I wasn't smiling,” you said, but the look on his face told you that you must have been. 

“It’s nothing, Dean.” You tried again.  
“It looks like something to me.”

You kept walking closer to him. You felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes, wanting to reach out and touch him, begging. “Please, he’s nothing to me. I don’t like him, not at all, this is so stupid. You have to believe me.”

He took a step back, disgust and disbelief mingling on his face. “I believe what I just saw with my own eyes. People have told me before that - that there was something weird going on between you two, but I never believed them. I never thought that you would stoop that low.”

“I didn’t,” you protested. “I would never be with him!” Your voice sounded hysterical even to you, and you felt a tear slide down your face.

“Aw, hear that, Draco?” Pansy drawled from the side, “you’re nothing to her! She would never be with you!”

Draco shoved by you and Pansy, walking off back to the castle. 

Dean turned to follow, but you ran to him and made a grab for him. Tears were flowing down your face freely now. 

“Please, Dean. I swear. I only love you, I only want to be with you. He’s nothing to me.”  
Dean looked at you in disgust. “We’re done, (Y/N). Don’t try to change my mind. This is over. It’s… too much.”

You watched him as he walked away, willing him to just look back, to see how sorry you were. But he didn’t. 

“I told you I would get you back,” Pansy said, then she turned and left too. 

Alone by the shore of the lake, you wrapped your arms around yourself and sunk to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU so much for your comments/kudos !
> 
> yule ball next time ;)


	16. The Yule Ball

It had been three weeks since your breakup with Dean. 

Your friends all knew that he had broken up with you, but you hadn’t told them why. Thankfully, Pansy hadn’t started any rumors about you and Draco - it would look bad for her in the long run, seeing as she had taken him back. And it seemed like Dean was too hurt by the situation to have told his friends exactly what went down. 

Small mercies.

Tonight was the night of the Yule Ball, which you had been looking forward to all term, and which you were now absolutely dreading. 

Sebastian was taking you, so at least you had a date - but not really. You and Sebastian were always going to be strictly friends - you had tried it on with him first-year, but you both found it loads more fun without the added pressure. 

So he had made the sacrifice of not going to the Yule Ball with Meg Asterly, his new love interest as of… well, some amount of weeks ago - so that you wouldn’t have to go alone. You loved him for it, really. But you were still dreading it. 

Someone knocked on your door, and you opened it to find all your friends standing outside. Sebastian came in first, looking handsome in his understated black robes. At least you would look good together in pictures. 

“You look great,” he grinned. 

You had loved your dress when you and your mother picked it out at Madame Malkin’s. It was a soft pink, falling over your shoulders perfectly and accentuating all your best features. It had a high slit that almost came up to the top of your thigh. Perfect for dancing. 

But now it just seemed like an in-your-face reminder that you weren’t going to the Yule Ball with Dean. After all, you had picked it out with him in mind. 

Sadie and Simon came in next. They fawned over you, and you fawned over them. They were going together, too - they had been walking the line between friendship and relationship for years, and you were glad to see them taking a step in the right direction. 

Tracey and her date, Michael Corner, came next. You told them that they looked great together, putting on your best fake smile. 

Sebastian took your arm. 

The ball itself was beautiful. Fake snow twinkled down from the ceiling, tall pine trees stood sentry in the corners, delicious looking food lined tables at the end of the hall. Everyone looked gorgeous and joyful. You looked out at the crowd as your friends started mingling. 

There was Cedric, who had taken Cho with him. He was so handsome, he really was. And looking happy. Cho looked beautiful too, her hair neatly piled atop her head, bringing out her perfectly-applied makeup.

And there was Harry with one of the Patil twins, Ron with the other one. They didn’t look particularly in love, but the Patils both looked nice. You had heard from Dean how much difficulty they had had finding dates, but you hadn’t talked to them since your break up. Salt in the wound, thinking about that.

But your train of thought was derailed almost immediately when you saw Draco and Pansy.

You were surprised you hadn’t noticed them earlier - they commanded attention. Draco looked more handsome than you had ever seen him before, as much as you loathed admitting it. His hair was perfectly tousled, hanging down around his face and framing it perfectly. His dress robes, the same ones you had seen him try on in Madam Malkin’s before term had even begun, somehow looked even more perfectly fitted tonight. 

Pansy’s hair was down, light curls bouncing every time she took a step. Her dress was bright green, matching the hemming of Draco’s robes. She looked gorgeous. The two of them sparkled under the lights, the epitome of beauty. They were like the snow falling above them - beautiful, but cruel.

You noticed people looking back at them as they passed, and you couldn’t blame them. They seemed to have an aura about them that everyone else was missing. It made you feel small.

Everyone looked on politely as the champions began the first dance, then promptly invaded the dance floor. 

Sebastian grabbed your arm and led you onto it, and you laughed despite yourself. Twirling around with him, you felt like this all could pass. 

A slow song came on, and he gently tugged you closer to him. You relaxed into his arms. 

“Thank you for taking me,” you said as you slowly rotated across the dance floor.  
“No thank you necessary. You know I protect my own.” He squeezed your hand. 

You raised your head, finally relaxing, finally feeling some semblance of happiness, when you saw him. 

Dean. Slow dancing. With Hannah Abbott. 

You stiffened and looked away immediately, but the image still stuck in your head. He looked so unbothered, like he had just been waiting for her to come dance with him all term. It wasn't like you wanted him to be tortured by your breakup - well, you sort of did, but that was beside the point - but he just looked so… comfortable. 

Like you had never happened. 

The song ended, and you and Sebastian went to get some food. As you sipped your drink and brooded over Dean, you saw his eyes following Meg Asterly as she walked around the perimeter of the dance floor. He might as well have been drooling. You snorted, and he turned back to you. 

“Am I being obvious?” he whispered, and you nodded.  
“Go on,” you said, “go dance with her.”

He grinned. “You sure?”  
“Yes.”

He bounded off, and there you were, alone. 

Dean and Hannah smiled at each other on the dance floor. He swung her around. She said something. He laughed. You crumpled your cup and threw it down into the nearest trash can, wanting to figure out what on earth could possibly be so funny. 

Cho and Cedric whirled each other around. He looked at her so reverently, like she was everything he could ever imagine. You felt something curling around in your chest, but you tamped it down. No time to crack into that. 

Sebastian caught up with Meg. He put his hand on her arm, and she looked up shyly. He talked with his hands, moving them around wildly as he spoke. She laughed, and they moved onto the dance floor. You really should be happy for him, and you were, on some level, but the dominant emotion you felt was just a swirling, ugly jealousy.

There wasn't really a place for you here. You had honestly had enough of the beautiful winter atmosphere. The fake snow was about to make you sick. So you just turned and walked up the stairs, breezing out into the hallway and taking a couple deep breaths.

“How could I be so stupid,” you whispered aloud, then kept walking, further and further down the hallway, until you could barely hear the sounds of everyone else having the time of their life. 

You sat down, took off your heels, and stared up at the ceiling high above for a while. You tried to memorize the pattern of the marble carvings to keep the flashes of Dean and Hannah together out of your mind. 

Perhaps that was why you didn’t notice the sound of his footsteps.

“Pitiful, this,” Draco said, and you looked up disdainfully. Perfect robes. Perfect hair. His hands curled at his side. You wished he would just disappear off the face of the earth. He was the last thing you needed in the world right now - someone whose only function in your life seemed to be reminding you of everything you had ever done wrong.

“Yeah, it is a bit pitiful, isn’t it,” you acknowledged, your voice cold. “Come to gloat? Or - what? Complain that I was dancing with Sebastian? Maybe get mad at me for getting you in trouble with Pansy?”

“I’m not mad at you,” he said. You looked up at him. “Get up. You look a mess.”

“No. Go away, Malfoy.”  
“I don’t think I will.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, digging your thumbnail into your palm and telling yourself not to cry. Everything just suddenly felt too much. 

“I said get up.” He repeated.  
“Get out of here, seriously. I can’t stand you,” you breathed, trying to keep your voice even.

“I thought I was nothing to you,” he recalled, “isn’t that what you told Thomas? That I was nothing to you? So, really, it shouldn’t matter whether or not I stay here. It shouldn’t affect you either way.”

You rolled your head to the side so that you didn’t have to stare at him. It seemed unfair that he got to look like that.

“You _are_ nothing to me. I just don’t want you around. You’re being an asshole.”  
“Look at me.” He said. 

You kept your head turned away from him, staring at some distant wall you could barely see. 

“Look at me.”

For some reason, that one pushed you over the edge. More than anything, you just wanted to be alone. And if there had to be someone with you, you would rather have Sebastian or Simon or Sadie or Tracey. Or literally every other fucking witch or wizard in the school. Anyone over Malfoy. 

And he still had the nerve to talk to you like he had some sort of hold over you, like he could tell you what to do and you would just do it. 

You thought about Dean and Hannah together. And Cho and Cedric. And Malfoy crossed your mind too, arm in arm with Pansy, parting the crowd. 

You pressed your thumbnail further into your palm, warning yourself not to cry, but it was inevitable now. You felt the first tear spill out of your eye, and you kept your face determinedly facing away from Malfoy’s frame. 

Unfortunately, he took it upon himself to walk around you. You looked down, but he sat down next to you. You hoped he couldn’t see your face. 

“Are you crying?” You heard him ask. You could’ve killed him for bringing it up. Great. Another thing to add to his arsenal.

“I told you to leave.” Your voice wavered, sounding weak.   
“I already told you, I’m not doing that.”

You brought your face up, making eye contact with him. For a second, you faltered - he was wearing an expression that you hadn’t seen on him before. 

“Just say it, then,” you said slowly.  
“Say what?”  
“Whatever you came here to say. Rub it in about Dean breaking up with me. Or talk about Pansy or something. Whatever it is, just get it over with. I want to be alone.”

“Why, so you can cry over Dean fucking Thomas?” Draco asked, as if you crying over the boyfriend that had broken up with you not even a month ago was the most absurd thing he had ever heard.

“This is exactly what I mean,” you said, gesturing in his direction.  
“What?”   
“You just - you always have to rub it in. Can’t you see I don’t want to be reminded about Dean right now?”

He cocked his head. “I’m not here to talk about him.”

You could have screamed. This conversation was going around in the most infuriating circles you had ever heard, and now Draco Malfoy had seen you cry. Probably the last thing you ever wanted anyone to see. 

“Then just say whatever it is.”

He nodded slowly. “I wanted to know… were you serious? What you said to Thomas.”  
“What are you on about?”  
“That - you know.”

You threw up your arms. “I _don’t_ know, Malfoy, I honestly don't. I don’t even understand what you’re doing here.”

“You said I’m nothing to you. Is that true?” He said quickly, all in one breath, like he was forcing it out of him. 

You would’ve scoffed had you not been crying. “What do you think? You think you’re something to me? You mean something to me?”  
“Well, do I?”

“Of course you don’t!”

He turned away from you, getting to his feet quickly. He towered over you as he stood. 

“Good,” he said, but he didn’t sound very happy, “that’s good. Because you mean absolutely nothing to me, either. Less than nothing.”

For some reason, you were on your feet too, wishing you hadn’t taken off your heels so that you wouldn’t have to look up quite so much to make eye contact with him. 

“Less than nothing?”  
“Yeah, that’s what I said.”  
“I guess that’s why you left the Yule Ball to come out and see me.”

You didn’t stop to process why exactly you were arguing with him, what exactly your point was. 

“I came to see you because - because - so I could rub it in about Thomas, like you said.”  
“How fucking predictable of you. What’s next, you suggest that I secretly fancy you?”  
“Oh, you like that one, do you?”

“Fuck you, Malfoy. That joke is part of the reason Dean broke up with me, and you know it, you absolute -”  
“Yeah, and what was the other part? He said it himself - it was how you were _looking_ at me!”  
“So you really are bringing it back to me fancying you?” You asked, disbelief and anger chasing around in your tone.

He opened his arms. “You do, don’t you?” He said, but his voice was mean, taunting.

“You’re the one who’s always grabbing me into corners and getting pissed off when I so much as _look_ at another boy! You’re the one who did all that stuff to me last year that I’m supposed to just forget about, and you’re the one who followed me out here! You wanna know what I think? I think _you_ fancy _me_!”

The words tumbled out of your mouth, but you didn’t believe them. Malfoy didn’t like you, same as you didn’t like him. You just knew that saying so would be the quickest way to infuriate him, the quickest way to get him to leave you alone. 

“You think I like you?” He fired back, hot anger, “You think I want you? That's fucking mental. You know, I always knew you were dim, but that’s - this is…”  
“This is what?”

But he didn’t reply. You noticed how close you were standing, how you could hear him breathing. The smell of his cologne swirled around in the air. His voice had lost its usual easy smugness, devoid of the usual intrinsic superiority complex. Instead, he had just sounded… defensive. Your feet were cold standing on the stone floor. 

“Say I’m nothing to you,” he said in a quiet voice.

You looked up and made eye contact with him. Why was he asking you this again? Of course he was nothing to you. His eyes looked a different color in the low firelight of the hallway, searching yours. He had always been handsome, but tonight he looked different. He was nothing to you. You inhaled the scent of his cologne, deep and rich. He breathed in, and his shoulders rose slightly. He was nothing to you.

“Say it,” he whispered again.

But the words wouldn’t come out of your mouth. Faintly, the music from the Yule Ball drifted down the hallway. A waltz. You felt your heart thundering in your chest. You took a step back, pressing your back against the wall. He took a step forward. _Say it,_ you thought to yourself, _just tell him the truth._

“You can’t,” he breathed, and he was right. You couldn’t. 

The music seemed louder now, burning into your ears. He put out his hand, bracing it on the wall behind you. You were so close to him. He took a step even closer, so that you were touching, just barely, his robes brushing against your dress. He leaned his face down towards yours, and you let him. His lips were inches from yours.

“I’m not nothing to you,” he said, but his voice sounded wrong, mean and cold.

He leaned in a fraction of an inch further. It occurred to you that this would end up in some twisted joke, that he would somehow use this to make fun of you. You put your hand out, flat on his chest, pushing him away. 

“Don’t act like you don't want me to -”  
“You brought Pansy here.”  
“You brought Daley.” He returned.

“Sebastian and I are just friends. He likes Meg, he was just being a good friend. It’s not the same. You took Pansy.”  
“Yeah, I took Pansy. And now I’m with you.”

“And later?”  
“Don’t worry about Pansy,” he said, still so close to you. Too close. “I don’t care about her.”

You tried to pull back, but you were already up against the wall. So you pushed him away from you. He took a step back, removing his hand from its place on the wall behind you. 

“You’re dating her.” You said.  
“Yes.”  
“Why? If that’s how you feel about her - if that's how you feel about… why?”  
“She’s…”

Draco trailed off, as if thinking about how to explain a complex equation.

“My father likes her. The Parkinsons are a good family. It’s good for me - my image.”

“I should’ve known. Everything’s about the image for you, isn’t it. Your image and your father.”  
“Not everything,” he challenged.

“Oh, what, you’re gonna say that I’m different? But the only times you really talk to me are when we’re alone in some dark corner.”

He looked taken aback. “You don’t understand how it is for me. But I want - there are things that I want.”  
“And I’m one of these things?”  
“I’m - I’m trying to -”

“Would you break up with her?” You pressed.  
“I’m -”  
“Or let me tell my friends what’s been going on?”

He was silent for a second. “It’s complicated.”

You laughed spitefully. “It’s not. It’s yes or no.”

He looked down. 

“Would you break up with her?” You asked again, feeling the answer reverberate through the air before he even said it. 

He looked back up at you. “No.”  
“Well, that’s all I need to hear.”

You put your heels back on and marched down the hallway, determined to erase him and his eyes and his hair and his cologne and his everything from your mind. You descended the stairs to see that Ron and Harry had both taken a break from dancing. The Patils had both found other partners, in fact. 

Hermione and Krum were still dancing, though, as were Sebastian and Meg, and - yes, there he was - Dean and Hannah. 

You needed to make him jealous. Dean, that is. 

You scanned the dance floor and saw that Theodore Nott was staring at you from the side. He had come with some Beauxbatons girl, but she was nowhere to be seen. He would do fine. 

You walked through the crowd, making eye contact with him the whole time. He seemed surprised when you came up to him. 

“Theo,” you said. His eyes grazed up and down your body. 

Before he could say anything, you said “fancy a dance?”

He nodded, and you grabbed his hand and led him out onto the dance floor. It was a faster song, and you got as close to him as you could, grinding up against him. Your eyes scanned the room, looking, making sure he was paying attention. 

Yes. There was Dean. And he was looking at you. But your eyes kept searching, passing over the crowd, and there he was. Draco, with Pansy again now. Staring right at you. 

You snaked your hands around Theodore’s neck and pulled him in to a kiss. He made a small sound of surprise, but then kissed you back, his hands straying down your back, grabbing at you.

He was an alright kisser, but it didn’t matter, not really. You deepened it, picturing Dean watching you, picturing the horrified expression on his face. But it was actually Draco’s face in your mind. 

This will make you regret it, you thought, but you weren’t sure whether you meant Dean regretting breaking up with you or Draco regretting not breaking up with Pansy. Not that you wanted Draco to break up with Pansy. There was no reason for you to want that.

Finally, you pulled away from Theo. He grinned at you, and you fake smiled back at him. 

“You’re hot,” he said. You didn’t reply, instead letting your eyes graze over the crowd again. Dean gave you a look of disgust, shook his head, and went back to looking at Hannah. 

But Draco had a much darker expression on his face. There it was. Jealousy. You were speaking his language, of course you were, this had all been for him, hadn’t it been. He pulled Pansy in and kissed her deeply. You turned back to Theodore. 

“I thought you came with Sebastian,” he said stupidly.   
“No,” you replied, “we’re just friends. I like you.”

He grinned again, hands wandering all over your body. You let them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was SO fun to write so i hope you guys enjoyed!
> 
> thanks as always for the comments, i love reading them! :)


	17. Settling

Dean was in your room. You had asked him to let you apologize to him, and he had agreed. Though you hadn’t really admitted it to yourself yet, you were hoping against hope that he would somehow believe you and take you back.

“There was nothing going on between me and Malfoy, and I know how it might’ve looked that way, but there _wasn't._ And I’m sorry for the way I came off and not thinking about you.”

“That’s your apology?” He said, disbelief written all over his features. “I thought you were actually going to admit to it, but of course you just continue to make excuses. You and Malfoy were together. You cheated on me. And now you don’t even have the balls to admit it.”

“Malfoy’s with Pansy,” you insisted, “I wasn't ever with him.”

“Then what did you want to apologize to me for?”  
“The way I came off.”

He scoffed. “The way you came off. Yeah, I bet you’re really sorry for that. Is that why you let Theodore Nott all over you at the Yule Ball?”

You blinked. You hadn’t really thought that he would bring that up. You would’ve forgotten about it yourself by now if Theo hadn’t taken to following you around the castle like a lost puppy. Well, not a puppy. Something far less cute. 

“I was sad.”  
“Yeah, you seemed really sad kissing him like that. I think I’m over this conversation.”  
“Dean…” you trailed off.   
“I don’t really think either of us have anything to say,” He said, pausing to give you the chance to prove him wrong. 

But he was right. There was nothing for you to say that you hadn’t already said. So you just nodded, and watched him as he turned to leave. 

Just as he reached the door, it opened from the outside, revealing Theo’s figure in the doorway. Dean turned back and gave you a look of such plain disgust that you could’ve started crying right then. Leave it to Theo to ruin everything. 

Dean brushed by him angrily. He looked confused. The idiot. Not waiting for your permission, he walked tentatively into your room.

You watched his eyes scan you in the way they always seemed to be doing. He ran a hand through his hair. You sighed. He was quite attractive, really, if you ignored everything that came out of his mouth. 

Maybe it would be good for you. To not have to worry about it. To just have someone that would always want you, no matter what you said or did. Maybe Theo would be good for you. At least until you could get over Dean.

So when he came up to you, exuding fake confidence, you went ahead and kissed him. It was an ordinary kiss. Nothing like the butterflies you used to feel when Dean was around, even after you had been dating for almost a year. Nothing like - whatever had happened with Malfoy in the hallway, when you had been so close that you could almost see your reflection in his eye. But that was different. 

Theo’s hands were wrong, in the wrong places on your body. But you still felt better about Dean when he was around. Like maybe you hadn’t fucked up so badly if someone still liked you, if someone was still willing to kiss you. 

“Go out with me,” he said.  
“What?”  
“I said go out with me.”

You remembered when Dean had asked you to go out with him last year. You were in the Three Broomsticks, warm and happy. He had just bought you a butterbeer and held your hands and said something funny right before he asked you, and the air had been perfect, and you could feel him smiling as he kissed you and every part of you was singing _yes_.

Your room felt stuffy, his hands felt wrong, his lips were alright. You felt sadness brewing in your stomach as you thought about Dean.

“Alright.” You said. 

Theodore left after a while. You lay back on your bed. Maybe you should cry, but you weren’t sad. Or maybe you should be smiling, but you weren’t that happy either. You didn’t feel much of anything.

Then your door opened a third time. You looked up to see Sebastian and Simon. They came in without an invitation. People seemed to love doing that to you as of late.

“Did we just see Theodore Nott leave your room?” Simon asked.  
“Yes,” you replied. 

Simon and Sebastian shared a look that was plainly disdainful. 

“Tell me you didn’t hook up with him,” Sebastian said.   
“I did.”

They looked at each other again. 

“You hooked up with Theo again?” Simon asked again, as if he thought there was some chance you were lying, joking. 

“We’re dating,” you said. 

“You’re joking.”  
“No, I’m not.”

“Well, break up with him, then.” Simon said.   
“I like him.”

Sebastian looked concerned. “No, you definitely don’t. Are you just doing this because of Dean?”  
“Yes.” 

Dean, definitely. Not Draco.

“I don’t think this is a good idea, (Y/N).”  
“I don’t care. I don’t want to hear it from you, Sebastian. You hook up with people all the time.”

“Yeah,” he returned, “but I actually want to.”  
“I want to be with Theo.”

There was silence in the room. You were looking up at the ceiling, but you could picture the look that Simon and Sebastian were sharing. 

“Alright,” Simon said gently.

Then the door opened and shut, and they left. 

You didn’t want to be in your room anymore, so you left. You went down to the common room, but Draco was in there, so you left, walking to the library instead. But, of course, he caught up with you in the hallway. 

“You and Thomas make up?” He asked meanly.

You turned, telling yourself that you would never forgive yourself if he saw you cry again. “No, Malfoy, we didn’t.”

He looked taken aback. “I wasn't - I just thought - I saw him leave your room.”  
“No. He hates me now. Not that it’s any of your concern what I do.”  
“It’s not,” he agreed, “but - why did Simon and Sebastian -”

“We’re friends. They’re my friends. They’re in my room all the time. I have no idea what makes you think that I need to explain myself to you.”

“I don’t think that. I was going to ask why they looked so concerned when they left.”

“None of your business. Good to know you’re keeping tabs on who’s coming in and out of my room.”

“I was in the common room.”  
“Great. How convenient for you.”

He took a step forward like he was about to make a grab for your arm. You took a preemptive step back. He scoffed.

“You need to stop getting so pissed off at me,” he said.  
“I’ve been pissed off at you since the moment I met you.”

A flash of annoyance crossed his face. 

“And Theo?”  
“Theo what.”  
“Theo was in your room too.”  
“So you really were keeping track.”

“I just saw him.”

“If you must know,” you said, “we’re dating now.”

“Are you.” He drawled.  
“Yeah, we are. And he’s… great.”

Draco smiled meanly. “Oh, that's low. Even for you.”

“I’m glad you think so. I would never want to get near someone who you thought highly of.”  
“Is that right?”  
“Yeah, that’s exactly right. I don’t know why you’re so concerned with who I’m dating now, anyway.”

“I assure you, I’m not.”

“Good.” You said. Then turned and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry not sorry for making you date theo
> 
> thank you for your comments/kudos! i love reading them and they really motivate me :)


	18. Cedric

You, Cedric, Tracey, and Michael were lounging around in one of the courtyards. The sun was shining brightly, and being around Cedric always made you feel better. 

It was probably the happiest you had been since Dean broke up with you. 

Cedric was talking about Cho and their latest of many dates at Madam Puddifoot’s. You struggled to pay attention. As much as you wanted to hear what Cedric had to say, Cho bored you out of your mind. You had only been in Madam Puddifoot’s once - you and Tracey had popped in third year - and the atmosphere somehow managed to be completely overwhelming and utterly drab at the same time. 

“I really like the girl,” Cedric was saying, “like, really like her. And I’ve liked her for such a long time that I just feel so lucky to be around her whenever we’re out together.”

You nodded. Personally, you couldn’t imagine being sat in Madam Puddifoot’s and feeling anything resembling luck. 

“But I just… don’t feel as sure as I used to.”

Your ears perked up at that. Cedric turned to you, as if he sensed that you had just started paying real attention to the conversation. 

“I mean, I see all these couples around that just seem like they know, you know?”  
“Like who?” Tracey asked.

“Well, (Y/N) and Dean, for one,” Cedric said, then caught himself, “ah, wait. Shit.”

You loved him, really, but he managed to be both one of the smartest wizards in the school and the most forgetful person you had ever met. 

He gave you a sympathetic look. “Sorry. Forgot you two ended things.”

You shredded a little piece of grass in your hands. “It’s fine,” you fake-smiled, “I’ve moved on.”

“What do you mean?”  
“I’m actually dating Theodore now.”  
“Nott?” He seemed disbelieving.   
“Yeah.”

“Oh, well that’s -” he paused, looking confused. “Is that why Dean broke up with you? Because you liked Nott?”

“No,” you replied simply. 

“It’s all very strange,” Tracey said, raising her eyebrows at you, “she won’t tell us a thing about why he ended it with her.”

Cedric looked at you. 

“It does seem strange,” he mused, “he seemed like he really liked you.”

At the other end of the courtyard, as if called by your conversation, Theo entered, followed by Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy. He and Draco looked like they were arguing. 

“So,” Cedric said from behind you, “when did this whole thing with Theodore start?”  
“Yule Ball,” you answered.

“I don’t mean to be.. rude or anything, (Y/N), I mean, I don’t know him very well… but he does seem a sort of an odd choice for you.”

You sighed. You were getting tired of everyone telling you off for dating him. Of course, if you were on the other side, you’d probably be telling yourself off. I mean, it was Theodore Nott after all. The Slytherin version of Cormac McLaggen, as Simon had informed you last week. But he was too nice of a distraction to give up. 

Tracey spoke up too. “I’m not even worried about being rude. (Y/N), I think what Cedric means is that it’s absolutely absurd that you’re dating Theodore Nott, let alone even giving him an ounce of attention. He’s beneath you.”

Yeah. That was exactly what you liked about him, truthfully. He would never break up with you. You had all the power. 

“Excuse me,” you said, getting up and wandering to the other end of the courtyard. 

Draco and Theodore were indeed arguing. 

“Nobody wants to see it.” Draco finished a thought.  
“But I suppose it’s fine when it comes to you and Parkinson.”  
“Because me and Pansy aren’t disgusting together.”

“What’s going on?” You cut in. 

Theo moved to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. You felt briefly disgusted. 

“Malfoy’s getting pissy that we kissed in the common room yesterday,” Theodore supplied.

Ew. You would rather forget about that particular episode. Malfoy didn’t need to know that, though. 

“We’ll kiss where we want,” you said to him, then, to prove your point, turned to catch Theo’s lips. 

You were trying to go for a light kiss, but he deepened it immediately, hands finding their way to their usual awkward position. 

You pulled away from him and turned back to Malfoy. 

He had an interesting expression on his face. The jealousy was there, but there was something else under the surface, as if he was beginning to figure out that most everything with Theodore was an act on your part. 

Before he got any further down that line of thinking you tugged Theodore’s arm and dragged him away.   
_____________________________________

It was the first time that you weren’t enjoying yourself at a Quidditch game. Dean wasn't there, but all of his friends seemed to have taken up the mantle of making you feel like shit in his place.

Even Ron and Harry, who you had considered yourself sort of close with, were absolutely ignoring you. 

Nobody was passing you the Quaffle, a few bludgers had come dangerously close to hitting you, and your team seemed to be operating as if you weren’t on it. 

The final straw came when Ginny Weasley tried to score from halfway down the pitch instead of just passing it to you.

You made a frustrated noise, flying away from the game and hovering over the stands, back to the game. You felt like you might cry, and you would rather fall off your broom again than let anyone see that happen. 

Sebastian flew up next to you. 

“(Y/N), maybe we should just leave.”  
“What, and let them win?” You asked, turning to him. 

“They’re just being immature. I don’t think it’s good for you, being around them.”

Over the past few weeks, all of your friends had tried to have gentle interventions with you, mostly about their wish for you to stop being with Theo, other times about how they thought you weren’t leaving your room enough or how you had skipped Care of Magical Creatures so much that Hagrid had actually noticed.

You were never in the mood, but today, robbed of the one thing that usually took your mind off of everything else, you just wanted to get away. 

So you did, flying away from the pitch altogether and toward the Forbidden Forest. Unfortunately, Sebastian didn’t give up, following you as best he could. He caught up with you in the air above the forest and grabbed your broom so that you had to look back at him. 

“Alright, (Y/N), I’m done with the gentle step-ins. Something is absolutely wrong with you, and everyone is tired of skirting around it. We get that you’re sad about Dean breaking up with you, but seeing as we don’t even know why he broke up with you in the first place, we can’t do anything to help you.”

“I don’t need help. I need you guys to leave me alone.”  
“Yeah, well, sorry if we’re not too keen on hanging out with Nott all the time.”  
“You don’t have to! I’m the one dating him.”

“Exactly, and none of us understand why!”  
“I told you, it helps me get over Dean.”  
“Right, Dean, who broke up with you out of the blue for reasons that you won’t tell us!”

“Because I can’t tell you!” You shouted. 

“Does this have something to with what happened last year?” He asked.  
“What happened last year?”  
“That time I saw you and Malfoy in an alley together in Hogsmeade and you refused to tell me what was going on?”

You had forgotten about that. 

“No,” you said quickly - maybe too quickly, because his eyebrows shot up. “Why do you even remember that?”

“Because it was the only other time you didn’t tell me something. Does Malfoy have something to do with this?” He asked, quietly.

For a second, you just wanted to tell him everything. But instead you wrenched his hand off your broom and flew back towards the school. 

As you flew over the gates, you saw a figure standing alone in the outside courtyard and recognized him immediately. Cedric. 

You touched down, noticing that you were crying. He noticed too, an expression of concern taking over his face. He hurried to you and wrapped his arms around you. You hugged him back. 

“What’s wrong? Do you - do you need anything?”

You broke apart from him. 

“You’re right, Cedric, I don’t like him. I don’t know why I’m with him.”  
“Nott?”

You nodded. 

“Well, that’s not true,” you continued, looking down, “I do know why. I just need to get over… someone else.”

“Dean,” Cedric replied, looking at you sympathetically. 

Right, Dean. Only you weren’t sure that’s what you meant. Not all of it, anyway.

“Break up with him, then,” Cedric said gently.  
“I can’t. I feel like everything would get worse if I did.”

He hugged you again. “How would everything get worse?”

“Because if I broke up with him I wouldn’t have anyone.”

“That’s not true,” he said, breaking apart from you but keeping his hand on your shoulder. “You would have Simon and Sebastian and Sadie and Tracey. And me.”

He smiled, a little sadly. “And there will definitely be other boys. I mean, it’s you.”

You sat down, wiping the tears from your cheeks. You really had to get a grip on yourself - he was the second person to see you cry since Dean broke up with you. 

“I haven’t talked about this with anyone else,” you said into the silence.   
He sat down next to you. “Well, I’m a good listener.”

You leaned against him. It occurred to you that you should try to be polite and ask after his girlfriend.

“Anyways. How are things with Cho?”

“Oh,” he said, “well, I don’t think - I mean, I liked her for a long time. But I don’t think I do anymore. I need to break up with her - I’m gonna figure out how after the tournament is over.”  
“Really?”  
“Yeah. I sort of - well, I have my eyes on someone else now.”

You smiled at him, wondering who he meant. It was Cedric - he could probably get any girl in the whole school if he put his mind to it. 

You squeezed his hand. 

“Not to leave you,” he said after a while, “but you did sort of catch me on my way down to Hogsmeade.”

You laughed, letting go of him and getting up. “Yeah. See you later, Cedric.”

“See you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....yeah sorry
> 
> thank you so much for your comments, i love reading them!


	19. The Third Task

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! you might have noticed that the chapter count went down - i just merged a couple of the shorter chapters in year three, so everything is still there!

It was the day of the last task of the tournament, and you were sitting with Theodore in the stands overlooking what seemed to be endless hedges. 

Sebastian was still pissed off at you for flying away from him, and the rest of your friends were walking on eggshells around you, afraid that you would push them away too. 

After talking to Cedric, you had made up your mind to break up with Theodore, but it was the definition of easier said than done. You told yourself you would break up with him before the tournament was over.

Then again, you had told yourself that you would break up with him before the third task even started, and you had failed at that. Hence the reason why he was sitting next to you. 

He put his arm around you as the horns played and they started letting the champions go in. It felt like a dead weight. You would’ve shrugged it off you, but Draco and Pansy were sitting a couple rows above you, and you thought seeing it might piss Draco off. Pissing him off was the only joy you could find lately.

The task seemed endless. It seemed ludicrous to watch empty hedges - the only thing you had seen happen so far was Viktor and Fleur shooting up their red sparks. Now it was between Harry and Cedric - you hoped it would be Cedric.

Theodore’s arm tightened around you, and you clenched your jaw. You debated whether or not to shove him off, Malfoy be damned, but then you heard a loud crack.

Your eyes shot forward as the crowd stood, cheering. Harry. But someone else was with him too. Yellow. Cedric. 

Everyone was clapping. You stood up to applaud, wondering if this meant that they had both won, when you heard a scream. You looked closer at the scene to see that Harry was crying, yelling something. And Cedric was - asleep? Knocked out? But no. There was his dad, running to him, calling out in anguish. 

You heard students crying too. And it hit you. He was dead. 

You heard yourself scream. You felt Theodore’s hands on you, trying to pull you into him, trying to comfort you, but that was the last thing you wanted. You shoved him away from you, running through the stands, needing to get away. 

You ran back toward the school, breathing heavily, tears flowing down your cheeks. It struck you that you had never cried like this before. 

You thought of the last time that you had cried, when you had flown away from Sebastian at the Quidditch pitch. How Cedric had been in the courtyard, like he was waiting for you to come along. 

You crumpled to the ground, your mind flashing with image after image of Cedric - him smiling at you in wonder at the World Cup. Him high in the air at Quidditch, searching for the Snitch. How everyone had cheered for him when he was chosen as one of the champions. How he had grinned at you whenever he saw you, how he had danced so gracefully with Cho, how gentle he was as he asked why you were with Theodore. 

For a second, it flashed in your mind that you needed him, that he would be able to comfort you right now, but of course he couldn’t. You put your head in your hands, sobbing.

Sebastian was the one who found you. He picked you up and walked with you back to the common room, talking to you the whole while. He tucked you into his bed, speaking to you gently. 

“Just sleep here, alright? I’ll be back soon with some food.”

He left. You tried to sleep, but it wouldn’t come. You got up and walked into the common room, intent on going to your own room.

A figure stepped in front of you. You looked up. Malfoy.

“Get away,” you said. You would not, _could not_ cry in front of him again.

You walked around him to the stairs, tears blurring your vision. You tripped on the first stair, the cold stone floor coming up to meet you. You felt arms wrap around you, picking you up. Malfoy walked you up the stairs. You let him. There was nobody else.

He kept an arm around your waist, and you turned your cheek against his chest. He smelled just like he always did, like that stupid cologne that you thought of every time you thought of the Yule Ball.

You were in your room now, sitting on your bed, and he was next to you, hands ghosting up and down your back. He hadn’t said a word to you.

Finally, you shifted away from him, lying back in your bed. Your stomach twisted. You didn’t want to cry in front of him. You didn’t want him here at all. He wasn't making you feel better, wasn't making you feel much of anything. Clearly, he had never actually comforted someone in his life.

“Get out, Malfoy.”

He left without saying anything. You wondered whether or not Sebastian was back yet. He was going to bring you food. You weren’t hungry. You tried to sleep again, but it wasn't any easier in your room. 

Then the door opened again. Theodore. He lay down beside you, trying to comfort you, but instead it just made you want to scream. 

“Leave me alone,” you said, rolling over so that your back was facing him. 

He put his arm around your stomach. You pushed it off you. “I said leave me alone.”

He scoffed, as if you were acting completely irrationally. Maybe you were. He got up and left too. Warm spring air drifted through the window. You felt like you could just sink into your bed and never leave. 

Cedric’s smile at the World Cup. His face when he told you about Cho. How he looked at the Yule Ball. And how he looked as Harry gripped the front of his jacket, as his dad cried over his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(  
> thank you as always for your comments, they make my day!


	20. Empty Classrooms

It was the end of term now. Two months since Cedric had died. 

You had been basically avoiding everybody except for your closest friends. They were always there for you, always willing to hang out, taking your mind off things as best they could. 

And you hadn’t been avoiding Theo, either. You saw your friends exchanging looks about it, but none of them had tried to intervene yet. Small mercies.

Theo was good at taking your mind off things too. In a weird way. It wasn't that you liked hooking up with him, it was more that your thoughts didn’t stray that far when you were. Maybe that did mean you liked it. 

Malfoy, on the other hand, you had definitely been avoiding. The last time you had been within five feet of him was when he had taken you up to your room on the day of the third task and sat with you. 

The fact that he had seen you cry again was embarrassing, and what was even more embarrassing was that it was becoming clearer and clearer to you that his allegations of you having feelings for him weren’t off the mark. At least, not completely.

You noticed a sort of anger in you whenever you saw Pansy and him together, and you often thought about the night of the Yule Ball, how it had felt being that close to him. That was another thing that took your mind off everything else. 

But you didn’t want to be anywhere near him now, because acting on those feelings would be just about the worst thing you could do right now.

Draco, for his part, had been trying to talk to you, doing his usual grab of the robes and trying to pull you into different corridors. But you had shaken him off every time. 

You were in the common room now, Theodore beside you, his arm around you again. He kept kissing you. You wished he would stop. 

You got up and left, telling him that you would be back in a second, and decided to just wander around the castle. 

As you made your way through the corridors near the library, a hand shot out and dragged you into an empty classroom. You shook him off like always. How did he always know where you’d be? You turned to leave, but he grabbed you again. 

“Don’t go.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” You asked, facing the door. He walked in front of you so that you had to look at him, then stepped closer to you, grabbing your hands in his. 

“You need to break up with Theo.”

Unbelievable, really. 

“Did you break up with Pansy?”  
“No.”  
“Then I don’t see why you think you have any grounds to ask me to do that.”  
“I have grounds because - because he’s an asshole. He talks about you like…”

“I don’t care how he talks about me.”  
“Because you don’t like him.”

“And you don’t like Pansy. But you’re still with her. We both have our reasons.”  
“You’re still pissed about Pansy.”  
“Of course I’m still pissed about Pansy!”  
“Why’s that?”

“Because you - you chose her over me.”

He took another step toward you, so that you were almost as close as you had been in the hallway at the Yule Ball. 

“Does that upset you?”  
“Obviously.”

“I told you you fancied me.”

“I don’t know if I do. I don’t want to think about it.”

You wondered why you were being so honest with him. Your usual mindset would have been to deny everything, to make him feel like everything he was saying was absurd. Come to think of it, that was his usual mindset with you, too. Maybe you were both just at the end of your ropes today.

“Well, you have to. You have to think about it.” 

“No, I don’t.” You were getting annoyed now. Of course he was putting everything on you. 

He threw up his hands, anger clear on all his features.

“Why is everything up to me?” You asked.  
“What do you mean?”  
“You know. You know exactly what I mean. You can’t expect me to lay it out for you knowing that you wouldn’t do the same.”

He scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
“Yes you do! You have to stop putting everything on me! Stop treating me like shit if you want me to break up with Theo!” You were yelling now. 

He yelled back. “Unbelievable! You’re unbelievable! I told you, you don’t understand anything! You act so fucking smart, but I swear you’re the most dense person I’ve ever met!”

“What does that mean?!”

“It _means_ that I’ve wanted you for so long! You can’t just keep avoiding me, not after everything!” 

“You’ve wanted me for so long? You have a really funny way of showing it!” You shouted back.  
“You know why I can’t!” He returned.

“Yeah,” you yelled, “your fucking _father_ and your _image_ and whatever else, I don’t care! We’ve had this conversation so many times and it always leads nowhere!”

“It’s going somewhere this time,” he insisted, taking a step toward you.

“Where is it going!?” You shouted.

And suddenly his body slammed into yours, his lips not far behind. You gasped as his hands came up to grab your waist, pressing into you so hard that it almost hurt. Your hands flew up to his back, then the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you. 

He picked you up, hands still tight on your waist, and you wrapped your legs around him, trying desperately to deepen the kiss as he walked you across the room and put you down on a desk. He broke the kiss for a second, and you tried to take a breath, but he cut you off before you could. You let out a little cry of surprise and felt him chuckle against your lips, shuddering as his hands curled up your back, pulling you impossibly closer to him. 

Then you broke apart. Took a breath. And the world crashed back down on you. 

“You know this means I cheated on Theo. And you cheated on Pansy.”  
“You don’t like Theo. You like me.”

He leaned down to kiss you, but you put a hand on his chest. 

“You’re arrogant,” you said.  
“I’m right,” he replied.

He kissed you again, hands in your hair, leaning you so far back that you were almost lying down on the desk. 

You broke apart again. 

“You could only do this in an empty room,” you said, “you’re a coward.”

You saw his face darken. Then you pushed him off and left, heart pounding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welllllllll hope you guys enjoyed >:)


	21. Brave

You were hooking up with Theo again. In your room this time, thankfully. You hated being with him when other people were around. Well, you didn’t really like being around him that much even when it was just you two. 

“So, we’re dating…” Theo said. 

He sometimes tried to do this - talk to you, that is - while you two were hooking up, but you were usually able to redirect him. You kissed him and cut him off, rolling on top of him. As soon as you broke the kiss, he spoke again. 

“What exactly does that mean?” He asked.  
You rolled your eyes. “Means we’re dating.”

He looked like he was going to speak again, so you quickly leaned down and kissed him so he wouldn’t. One of his hands was hovering over your back. The other one was, for some unknown reason, gripping your forearm. 

His hands always seemed like they wanted to take off your shirt but couldn’t quite get up the nerve. That was exactly what was going on, actually. It pissed you off. You had given up trying to reposition them a long time ago.

He spoke again. “Well, y’know… we’ve been together like four months now…” 

Four months. You sat back a little bit, letting him keep talking. Four months. It struck you that that was far too long to be dating him. 

“...but we don’t spend that much time together besides, like, hooking up,” he continued. You raised your eyebrows. 

“Not that I don’t like this,” he clarified. You didn’t want to hear what he had to say next, so you just leaned down and kissed him again. He briefly tried to push you off, but then stopped, kissing you back. 

You found yourself thinking of a different kiss. 

The only good thing about Theo was his ability to take your mind off of your other problems, but lately you were thinking about other things even while you were with him. 

“I really like you a lot,” he mumbled into your lips, then looked up at you in anticipation as you broke apart from him. 

“Yeah, I like you too,” you said quickly, throwing the comment out, knowing that that was what you had to say in order to keep going. He looked almost as if he didn’t believe you. But you leaned down again, and he let you. 

Then, suddenly, your door banged open. 

You let out a little yelp of surprise, quickly rolling off Theo and whipping your head around to see who had barged into the room. 

Draco stared at you, eyebrows raised, smirking. 

“What the fuck, Malfoy?” You heard Theodore say from beside you, sitting up.  
“Get out of here, Nott.” Draco said.

Theodore turned to look at you, but you kept your eyes on Draco. 

“Sorry, this is my girlfriend’s room. Why are you in here?”

Draco took a couple of steps closer to your bed. You felt your heartbeat get louder in your chest. 

“I said _get out._ ”

Theodore got off your bed, taking a step toward Malfoy. “Why should I?”

Draco grinned. “Because I’m asking you nicely?”  
“You have a lot of nerve-” Theo started. 

But Draco grabbed his arm, aiming his wand towards him. “Yes,” he said, “I really do. Now leave me and (Y/L/N) alone.”

“You’re mad if you think I’m gonna leave you alone in here with my girlfriend.”

You wished he would stop calling you his girlfriend.

“She doesn’t want you in here anymore,” Draco said simply, then turned to make eye contact with you for the first time since he had come in.

As his eyes hit yours, you felt like lightning was cracking through your body. Theodore turned to you too. 

“Is that right?” Theo said, clearly expecting you to tell Draco off.  
“That’s right,” Draco said back, raising his eyebrows at you.

You didn’t take your eyes off Malfoy’s for a second. “Leave, Theo.”

Theo made a noise of surprise, and Draco roughly released his arm, stepping aside so that he had a clear path to the door. 

“(Y/N),” Theo started.  
“I said leave,” you said back.

He threw his arms up in frustration, and you could feel his confused eyes on you as he left the room. Finally, your power over him was paying off. The door swung closed behind him.

You got out of bed, taking a couple wary steps toward Draco. He moved toward you too, confident strides, meeting you halfway. So close together. Your heart hammered in your chest. 

“What are you -” you started, but he cut you off.

“I broke up with Pansy,” he said simply. Then his lips crashed onto yours.

He tasted just like he had last week, vanilla and mint and something else that was just him. One of his hands came up to cup your neck, his thumb running up and down your jawline. You twisted one hand around his back, the other on the back of his neck, pulling him to you so that your bodies were completely pressed together. 

He was gripping your back too now, other hand in your hair. Both of you grabbing at each other as if trying to figure out some way to get closer to each other, closer, closer. 

Then he ran his hands down your sides, coming to rest on the hem of your shirt and pulling it up, no hesitation. You put your arms up, and he pulled it over your head, then pressed back against you with a vengeance, backing you up against your bed, making your knees feel weak. 

He picked you up quickly, depositing you on your bed, never breaking the kiss. 

He leaned back, his hands on either side of you, taking you in. His eyes flashed with lust, and he grabbed the hem of his sweater and ripped it off, throwing it down onto the floor. 

Your eyes swept over his bare chest quickly, but he was back on you within seconds, leaning you back into your bed, towering over you. He ducked into your neck, biting at your collarbones, and you snaked your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to you, exhaling shakily as his hands held you down on the mattress.

Then he pushed you back so that you were lying completely on the bed and crawled on top of you, lips latching back onto yours, one hand bracing himself on the bed, the other reaching down to undo his trousers. You batted it away, doing it yourself. Button. Zipper. 

He made light work of your bra clasp, and you shrugged it off, pushing it over the edge of your bed. His hair hung in his face as he took you in, breathing heavy. 

“Shit,” he breathed, “shit.”

He pulled you up, wrapping his arms around your back, kissing you so deeply that you felt a bit light-headed. He pressed his leg in between your thighs, and you whimpered as he bit down on your bottom lip. 

You grabbed the hem of his trousers, pulling down forcefully until they were off and you could discard them too. Then yours. His lips dipped back down to your neck, sucking hard enough that you were sure he could feel your heart beating under his lips. 

“People will see,” you breathed out, and he exhaled softly against your skin, taking in your words. Then he moved lower, his mouth moving over your collarbones, your chest, lower.

You felt like your whole body was humming, like everything you had ever done had just been to get to this moment. 

He grabbed one of your hands, lacing his fingers through it, and pressed it down onto the bed above your head - the other one moved down to his boxers, which he made light work of.

He leaned down, capturing your lips again, kissing you deeply, more gently than he had been, his hand pushing yours down into the mattress. Your breath hitched as you felt his other hand running down your thigh, catching the side of your underwear and pulling it off you in one fluid motion. 

That was it. There was nothing separating you anymore. Skin on skin. You stared up at him, drinking him in. His eyes were dark, roaming around your body unabashedly. 

He grabbed your other hand, fingers lacing through, and pinned it behind your head to join the other one. He looked down as he positioned himself against you, hair hanging down in his forehead. 

“Do you need -” he started, but you cut him off.  
“No. Just go.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” he whispered.  
“Then give me an idea.”

He rocked into you then, making you gasp. He was slow, deliberate movements, his eyes blazing into yours. You tried to bring your hands to his neck, to pull his lips down onto yours, but he still had your hands pinned above your head.

So you were forced to lie back, watching him slowly dip down towards you, his face getting closer and closer, but not nearly fast enough. You tried to arch into him, but he pushed you back, holding your body to the mattress with a firm hand on your waist, the other hand holding both your wrists against the mattress. 

You whimpered as he rolled his hips into you again and again. He was being careful, gentle. Finally, he leaned his face down far enough that you could kiss him. You caught his bottom lip between yours, sucking it gently then licking across it quickly. He opened his mouth slightly, his quick breaths escaping into your mouth.

Finally, finally, he let your hands go, and you wrapped them around his back at once, digging your nails into his shoulder muscles, pulling your body as close to him as you could get. You rocked your hips against him as he stroked into you, whimpering. 

He sped up then, and you squeezed your eyes shut, nails digging so far into his skin that you’d be surprised if they didn’t leave marks. He leaned back into your neck, sucking at a spot that would be all too visible come tomorrow, but you didn’t tell him to move. You didn’t want him to move. Instead, you rested your nose on top of his head, lips gentle on his forehead, your bodies still moving together at an increasingly fast pace. 

He was biting down on your neck now, hard enough that it hurt, and his hands were pressing into your waist. You grabbed either side of his face with your hands, dragging him back into you for another kiss. He pulled you as close to him as he could, and you felt him deep inside you. You shuddered, crying out into his mouth. 

“You’re so -” he breathed out as he started moving again, and you just hugged him to you, holding him tightly against your body, feeling his skin all over yours, brushing against your clit each time he pulled out. 

He mouthed at the side of your face, your cheek, your jawline, your neck. You twisted your fingers into his hair, tugging at the nape of his neck as you felt yourself draw closer, closer. 

He was going faster now, impossibly fast, chasing his own high. You felt his hips stutter slightly inside you, and he bit down hard on your neck as he came, choking out a guttural moan. His body was shaking as you ran your hands through his hair, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, running your nails back and forth gently across his back. 

He pulled out of you, panting, leaning down to kiss you. He pulled back slightly, gaze running over your body. You brought up a hand to your forehead, brushing aside the strands of your hair that had stuck to your face, slick with sweat. 

He kissed you again, deeper this time, as he brought a hand down to rub your clit with quick circles. You grabbed his bicep, the other hand wrapped around his neck, your breath hitching against his ear. You felt tears sting your eyes as you ducked your head into the crook of his neck, breathing him in, bracing yourself against him. 

Your body shuddered, shaking, and you threw your head back as you came, your hands digging into his skin. He held you against him as your breathing slowly returned to normal, arms wrapped haphazardly around your back. His bare chest pressed against yours, and you timed your breaths with his so that you were in sync. 

You felt drowsy, sleepy. He smelled so good. He always had, but it was different now, being this close to him - like it was all around you, everywhere. 

You felt his hands around your face, brushing strands of hair out of the way, and you looked up at him, a soft smile on your face. 

You paused. His face looked wrong. He was wearing an expression of - you couldn’t really explain it, but you were sure it was incongruous with yours.

“There,” he said softly, “you can’t ever call me a coward again.”

And with that, the calm air broke. Your mind reeled. You brought your hands away from where they had been absentmindedly circling his neck, using them to get his arms off of you and push him away. You moved over to the other side of the bed. The sheets were cold. You sat up, incredulous, bringing the sheets with you to cover yourself. He looked confused.

“So was that what this was about for you? Proving that you aren’t a coward?” You hissed.  
“I’m not,” He said, reaching out for your arm absentmindedly.

You batted his hand away from your arm, seething. “Are you being funny?”

You shifted away from him, and he followed suit. He turned around and got out of your bed, bending over to collect his clothes off the floor and pulled them on in a hurry. Your heart started pounding again, but for the wrong reasons this time.

“Draco, tell me this wasn't just you proving a point,” It occurred to your that you were using his first name, but it seemed stupid to call him Malfoy after what had just happened.

He looked up at you, pants and trousers on, sweater bunched up in his hands.

“No. But I did prove it, didn’t I? I broke up with Pansy. I laid it out there for you. I’m the one who’s done everything. You don’t even have the balls to break up with Nott. I think you’re the coward.”  
“I’ll break up with Theo - ” you started.  
“Don’t bother,” he answered, pulling his sweater over his head and turning to leave.

“Is this a secret?” You asked, afraid of what the answer would be.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t even look back as he walked toward the door. Suddenly the air felt colder, and you pulled your blankets up higher on your body. 

“Yes,” he said, then opened the door and left.

You felt a little sick. You should’ve asked this before - you shouldn’t have assumed just because he broke up with Pansy everything would have changed. No, of course he still wanted you to lie for him, lie about everything you were feeling and everything that had happened, even to your closest friends. 

He didn’t want you to break up with Theo, either. He was probably going to get back together with Pansy. You found yourself wondering whether he had actually broken up with her in the first place or if he had just said that. 

Your eyes travelled to where your shirt had been deposited on the floor a couple feet away from your bed. You felt cold without it, but you didn’t want to get out from under the covers. 

Yeah. He proved his point.  
___________________________

The train home was always bittersweet. 

You, Sadie, Tracey, Simon, and Sebastian were crowded into one compartment as per usual, and you felt your heart glow with thankfulness for their easy banter. 

You had broken up with Theodore a couple weeks ago, and they had bought you a cake in Hogsmeade to celebrate. Everything had gone back to normal pretty quickly after that. 

You were passively listening to their conversation. Tracey had just gotten back from a very long trip to the bathroom.

“Funny,” Sebastian observed upon her return, “I could have sworn I just saw Michael Corner leave the bathroom too!”

Tracey smacked him with her copy of the Prophet, which was proclaiming that Harry was lying about having seen Voldemort return. 

You wanted to believe that he was lying, that maybe his mind was addled by grief, but Dumbledore had said that he believed Harry, and, frankly, you did too. You tried not to think about it too much, though - it just made you feel uneasy. 

Sebastian started going on about Katie Bell and how he was planning to seduce her as soon as the next term began. 

“Fat chance of that,” you said, laughing.  
“I’m so glad you broke up with Nott. I think he was confusing your brain.” Sadie said to you, and you rolled your eyes playfully. 

Simon was (obviously) asleep, but Sadie was holding his hand anyway. You smiled, looking out the window as the station raced closer and closer. 

You got off on the platform, waving goodbye and hugging all of your friends. Tracey shed a couple tears and you all teased her, reminding her that you would write. 

“Well, I won’t,” Simon said, “but maybe Sadie will write something for me.”

Sadie raised her eyebrows at him. You looked around, trying to catch sight of your parents, but apparently they were late. Typical of them, really. 

Instead, your eyes fell on one Lucius Malfoy. 

You would’ve looked away, but Pansy Parkinson was walking up to him. He noticed her and gave her his version of a smile. Then she said something to him that you couldn’t hear over the chaos of the platform. You cocked your head. 

Lucius looked confused, then angry. His head turned, and you looked away just in time to not catch his eye contact. Whatever Pansy had told him, he had turned and looked at you right after she said it. 

Draco got off the train. When he saw Pansy and his father together, a strange look passed over his face. It was as if a weight had just dropped on his shoulders.

You hadn’t spoken to him since the day he had come to your room, but you had made eye contact across the common room a number of times and you could never really tell what he was feeling. 

He knew you had broken up with Theodore because you made sure he was around when you told Sebastian and Simon. 

Part of you had wanted him to come up to your room, slam open the door again. Part of you had wanted him to pretend like you didn’t exist anymore and get back with Pansy - apparently he really had broken up with her. If either of those things had happened, you would know where the two of you stood. 

But instead you had been operating in a weird middle ground. You weren’t sure what was going on at all. 

“(Y/N)!!!” You heard your mother’s voice and turned around. You ran to say hello to your parents, who hugged you tightly.

“We were so sorry to hear about Cedric,” your father said. 

You nodded, feeling a little sting of pain. Your mother gave you another hug. 

As you walked off the platform, you stole a look back to see Draco and Lucius were leaving too. Lucius was wearing his usual stoic expression, but Draco just looked sad. You wondered what had happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you all enjoyed :) fifth year starts tomorrow !


	22. Embers (fifth year)

The Great Hall was alive with candlelight and laughter. The first-years had just been sorted, the food had appeared on the tables, and Sebastian was talking about Katie Bell. 

Simon and Sadie were officially together now, to everyone’s delight, and Sebastian was taking great pride in making as many suggestive jokes as possible about the two of them. 

“I’m afraid to let them sit next to each other,” he started. “We’re going to have to start looking under the table to make sure they aren’t -” 

Sadie punched him in the shoulder before he could finish. 

“Ow, Sadie, what the fuck,” he said, laughing. “Better be careful I don’t retaliate.”  
“Yeah, I sure hope not, because I’m not stepping in to help you,” Simon chimed in.  
“How chivalrous you are, Simon,” Sadie said in a monotone, but the corners of her lips curved into a smile. 

You grinned at them, exchanging a knowing look with Sebastian - but your mind was honestly elsewhere. 

You turned and looked down the table as you had already done a couple of times tonight. Looking for him. 

Draco’s hair caught your eyes first, as it usually did. It was just as striking as ever, so blond it was almost white. He was sitting in between Crabbe and Blaise, across the table from Pansy. 

As always, his robes draped perfectly over his shoulders, and your eyes lingered on his hand around a goblet as he took a sip of whatever he was drinking. His hands were decorated by rings, glinting metal in the candlelight.

You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him all summer. The way you had left things last year was so confusing - he had all but confessed his feelings for you, and you had done the same, but you weren’t even sure if his feelings had been there at all. 

What had he said to you when you told him you’d break up with Theo? _Don’t bother._ But immediately before that, he was berating you for being a coward, saying that he was the only one making things happen between you - which must have meant that he wanted things to happen between you in the first place.

He had broken up with Pansy, after all. You still remembered exactly how he had told you, the way the words had crossed his lips so simply before they crashed onto yours. 

“What are you looking at?” Tracey’s voice snapped you back to the conversation. 

“Oh, just - seeing who the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is,” you replied. It was the first thing that came to your mind - you had been wondering on the train.

“And?” Tracey asked.

Well, shit. You hadn’t been looking for her at all. You turned around again, scanning the staff table quickly. 

“I think it’s that woman in pink,” you said back.

You turned around to see all your friends giving you a strange look. Well, except Simon. He was focused on his food. 

“She looks weird, right?” You said, trying to take the focus off yourself.  
Sadie squinted her eyes at the staff table. “Yeah, she looks really fucking weird.”

Sebastian opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Dumbledore stood up and clinked his glass. The whole hall fell quiet. 

He began his usual disclaimers about the off-limits areas of the castle for the benefit of the first-years, and you allowed your eyes to wander back to Draco. His face was angled languidly toward the high table. He looked leaner than you remembered him, as if he had lost his last bit of baby fat over the summer. His face was more angular, his jawline somehow sharper.

Pansy said something, and he smiled - you couldn’t tell whether it was real or fake. The thought crossed your mind, as it had many times before, that they could’ve gotten back together. After all, whatever Pansy had told Lucius on the platform would have definitely impacted his life over the summer.

Suddenly, he angled his head back down the table, looking directly at you. There was no way to hide that you were already staring at him. He raised his eyebrows, then turned back to his conversation. What did _that_ mean?

Dumbledore broke you out of your thoughts. 

“Please welcome our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dolores Umbridge. Now, without further -”

But the woman stood up, cutting him off with a strange throat-clearing noise. 

Sadie snorted behind you. Anyone who interrupted Dumbledore’s announcements clearly had no idea what was going on. 

It quickly became clear, however, that Umbridge had her own, very clear idea of what was happening. 

“Thank you, Headmaster, for those kind words of welcome. And how lovely to see all your bright happy faces smiling up at me.” You looked around the table. Nobody was smiling. “I'm sure we're all going to be very good friends.”

Apparently she was either oblivious to her rather cold reception from the students - or she just didn’t care. She kept speaking.

“The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards of vital importance. Although each Headmaster has brought something new to this historic school… progress for the sake of progress must be discouraged. Let us preserve what must be preserved, perfect what can be perfected and prune practices that ought to be prohibited.”

With that, she sat down. You turned to your friends, who all had their eyebrows raised.

“How many times do you think she’s sucked Fudge’s dick?” Sebastian asked in a hushed voice.  
“Oh, ew, Sebastian,” Tracey shot back.  
“I bet she never has,” Simon answered, “but I bet it’s her dearest wish in all the world.”

You and Sadie snickered while Tracey made fake gagging noises.

“I bet she’s here because the ministry’s freaked out about everything Harry said last year,” Tracey said, and everyone nodded. 

“Well, do you believe him?” Sadie asked, turning to you. “I figure you know him best.”

Your stomach twisted. You had been grappling with this all summer, too - whether or not Harry was lying about what happened with Cedric. 

“No, I don’t think he’s lying. Why would he make that up?”  
“Maybe he was just seeing things… y’know, after watching Cedric die.”

You paused. “Yeah, maybe. But then what killed Cedric?”

Sebastian nodded. “I believe Harry if Dumbledore does. The guy is crazy, yeah, but he’s like… the best wizard of all time.”

The common room was already crackling with conversation and a roaring fire by the time you and your friends got in, and you journeyed upstairs to see that your trunk had been left at the foot of your bed. You had a single again this year - perks of being a fifth year, you guessed, and you flopped onto your bed, breathing in the scent of Hogwarts all around you. It had been a long summer.

You quickly changed into your pajamas, went and got Tracey and Sadie, and made your way downstairs like always. Sebastian and Simon were waiting for you in their room. Sadie climbed into Simon’s bed, eliciting a couple choice comments from Sebastian, and you and Tracey stretched out on their rug. 

You talked for a while longer, catching up on your summer activities, but Simon was asleep in no time. “Travel drains him,” Sadie said, yawning. 

“I think he’s rubbing off on you,” Tracey said.  
“In more ways than one,” Sebastian chimed in. 

You chuckled. Sadie threw a pillow across the room. Soon, though, she was out cold - proving Tracey’s point. 

“They’re so cute together,” Tracey yawned.  
You smiled. “Yeah. About time, really.”

You and Tracey hugged Sebastian goodnight, then walked back through the common room to go back to your dorms. 

Only one person was still lingering in the common room with its dying fire. You recognized his hair immediately - Draco. You remembered this day two years ago, when you had seen him kissing Pansy. 

Today he was alone. He looked up at you, his facial expression at a complete impasse. 

“Go ahead, Trace, just realized I left something in the boys’ room,” you said before you could think better of it. 

Tracey turned around, confused. “What’d you leave?”  
“My… necklace,” you said, the first thing that came to mind. 

She raised her eyebrows, clearly skeptical, but she was too tired to protest. 

“Alright. Want me to wait?”  
“No, go on. See you tomorrow.”

She hugged you goodnight then traipsed up the stairs. You turned around to see Draco staring at you from his place on the couch, the embers of the fire reflecting in his eyes. 

You went and sat next to him, feeling like there was something jumping around in your stomach. You looked at him in anticipation. 

He yawned. “You were a while in there. Lucky I didn’t fall asleep.”  
“You were waiting for me?” You asked.

“How was your summer, (Y/L/N)?” He answered your question with one of his own.

You began talking about how your father had gone on a business trip to Egypt, and you and your mother had tagged along. He was watching you closely as you spoke, but he didn’t seem like he was listening to a word you said. So you cut your story off.

“Anyways,” you said, “how was yours?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Well, it went about as well as you would guess.”  
“What happened with your father?”

He grimaced. 

“I saw Pansy tell him something on the platform, and, well…” you continued, trying to explain why you had asked.

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, well. Pansy told him I broke up with her.”  
“Oh.”  
“For you.”  
“Oh.”

He looked at you as if trying to gauge your reaction to the news. 

“And did he - what did he say?” You asked.  
“He said he didn’t like it much. That Pansy’s better suited for me. Which she is.”

You felt your heart hammer in your chest. 

“What did you say to him?” You asked.  
“I said we weren’t together in the first place, that Pansy was just being crazy.”

“So you’re back together with Pansy, then?” You asked, already knowing the answer. 

He regarded you curiously, the shadows on his face looking soft in the light of the fire. He smelled just the same as he always did, looked a bit older. His hair was shorter than it had been last year. 

“No,” he said slowly, quietly, and you felt a pang in your chest.

They weren’t back together. He hadn’t gone back to her. Even though his father had wanted him to, even though it probably would’ve been so much easier and more familiar for him to just give in. 

It said a lot, that one word. The closest he had ever come to telling you his feelings was in that empty classroom last year - _I’ve wanted you for so long._ Since then, he seemed to be all over the place, backtracking and avoiding you, bursting into your room, telling you he didn’t care whether or not you broke up with Theo, giving you intense eye contact every time you looked his way. 

You didn’t bother asking him whether or not he still felt the same, whether he still wanted you. He would never give you a clear answer - not while things were still the way that they were. He would probably contradict himself a million times trying to explain to you that he didn’t like you but inexplicably being close to you all the time. 

But you didn’t need to ask. For now, the fact that he hadn’t gotten back together with Pansy told you everything you needed to know. That he was waiting on you, hoping you would still want him, even if he could barely admit those feelings to himself.

You steeled yourself, telling yourself that it would have to be you. You would have to be the one to do it from now on. If you wanted him, you would have to accept that. And you did want him. As much as you didn’t understand why, you did.

The embers crackled into the fireplace, sending up a couple sparks. They reflected in his eyes as he stared at you.

Taking a breath, you leaned in and kissed him gently, your hand moving to ghost over his thigh, then anchoring there as you felt him open his mouth slightly, kissing you back. His arm moved over the couch and wrapped across your back, pulling you deeper into him. Intoxicating.

You broke apart, and he looked at you reverently. 

“Just wanted to see if it was the same,” you whispered. 

It was the same, too, but it was different. It was different with everything in the open. The fact that both of you knew how you felt about the other swam around in the air, even though neither of you cared to vocalize it. 

He didn’t smile, just stared at you. 

“Nobody can know,” he said after a little while. His voice wasn't warm, wasn't anything.  
“Alright,” you nodded carefully. “That’s alright.”

You stared at each other for a second, then he leaned in and kissed you again. Harder this time, pulling you closer to him so that you were almost in his lap. 

You felt that familiar lightning shoot through your body, the same kind you got whenever you caught his eye across a room, the kind that felt so electric that day last year when he had come to your room. 

You broke apart. He rested his forehead on yours. “Not even your friends. Nobody.”

Your heart thrummed. You hadn’t been expecting him to write you a love poem, but you found yourself wishing that he was a little more warm. Maybe that was stupid. You had been thinking about this all summer, and you knew that you would have to read between the lines a great deal if you wanted this to work. 

He would never be like Dean, who used to tell you his every passing thought, whose emotions were never hard to recognize or understand. He would never be like Theo, who you never had to worry about at all.

“I won’t tell anyone. I never have,” you said softly, trailing your fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck.

He reached out and grabbed your other hand, then looked down as if he couldn’t believe he had just done it. 

The fire was almost out now, and the lake was black outside. Sleepiness dropped on your shoulders. 

“Goodnight,” you said, getting up slowly to walk toward the stairs. He let your hand slip away from his and fall back to your side. You smiled at him, then turned and walked toward the stairs.

“(Y/N),” you heard him say from behind you, and your stomach flipped at hearing him use your first name. You turned around to see that he had stood up from the couch. 

“First name basis?” You observed, and he nodded, a small smile decorating his face.

He reached you and stood over you for a second, then wrapped his arms around you tightly, hugging you to him. You brought your arms up to his shoulders, hugging him back, breathing him in.

“You’re brave,” he said into the top of your head. 

You smiled to yourself as you walked up to your room. You felt warm, like his arms were still around you, and you could smell him on your clothes.

You lay down in bed, wrapping yourself in blankets. It was a secret, everything, it had to be, but your mind didn’t dwell on that at all as you drifted off, replaying the way he leaned in to kiss you over and over in your head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> giving you what you want (sort of) (for now)
> 
> hope you all enjoyed and thanks for the comments i love reading them :)


	23. The Fourth Floor Broom Closet

You sat across from Sebastian in the Divination tower. He was shaking his teacup, trying to discern what symbol his leaves had landed on, and you were trying so hard not to laugh that your eyes were watering. 

Trelawney came up behind you so quickly and quietly that Sebastian jumped. 

“Perhaps you should try being a little more gentle with your cup, Mr. Daley,” she said, and Sebastian stopped shaking it, placing it on the table instead.

Trelawney looked you up and down. 

“Your aura’s looking quite pink today, Ms. (Y/L/N).”

You nodded, trying to look like you were inspecting your teacup as she watched your table for what felt like five minutes. As soon as she walked away, Sebastian snorted. 

“Your aura’s looking incredibly pink today,” he whispered in a mocking voice. “Just so incredibly pink. It’s stunning, really.”  
“Your aura’s looking a particular shade of brown today,” you shot back.

He chuckled. 

“What are you writing down about your cup?” He hissed after a couple seconds of silence.  
“I’m saying it looks like I’m going to go through a change in my life because my leaves landed on the snake and the butterfly,” you replied

Sebastian squinted into your cup. “Um, (Y/N), they landed on the snake and the church.”  
“I know that,” you said, “but Trelawney doesn’t. I have no clue what the church means.”

You finished writing your notes, letting your eyes dance across the room. Draco and Pansy were working together at a table in the corner. You watched as she put her hand on his and he pulled it away. You smiled to yourself.

“So, I guess they didn’t get back together after all,” Sebastian mused.  
“Yeah, guess not,” you said. 

He raised his eyebrows at you. “Want to tell me why you two were alone in an alley together third year, or is that still precious knowledge?”

You grinned. “We were making out. Really going at it. I can’t believe you still remember that.”

He laughed. “Anyways. How long do you think it’ll be before they get back together?”  
“Who, Pansy and Draco?”

Sebastian raised his eyebrows at you. “Pansy and _Malfoy,_ yeah.”

“Um… I think it’ll be a while…” you trailed off.  
“Really? I give it a week. I’ll tell you a secret… if any girl tries it on with a guy for more than a week, he’ll give in.”  
“Is that so?” You mused.  
“Yes. The flesh is weak.”

You smacked him lightly with your textbook. “I think you mean _your_ flesh is weak. And, no, if you were wondering - I don’t think you should hook up with Daphne again.”

He grinned as Tracey and Sadie leaned over from the table next to you. 

“Are we talking about Pansy and Malfoy?” Tracey asked.

Sebastian nodded.

“I give it two weeks. He seems kind of pissed,” Tracey said.  
“I’ll give it a month,” Sadie chimed in. “Simon’s been saying three days.”

“Should we put money on it?” Sebastian wondered, and Tracey nodded vigorously. 

You looked over toward Draco again as Sebastian started writing down people’s guesses along with their bets in the margin of his textbook. 

Draco looked up and caught your eye, then mouthed “closet” at you. You nodded, heart fluttering.

You tuned back into the conversation at just the right time. 

“Okay… Sadie, putting you down for 10 galleons for a month. (Y/N), let’s hear your guess.”

Trelawney cut you off with a rambling dismissal of class, and everyone started packing up. You stuffed your textbook in your bag as you turned back to Sebastian.

“I bet they don’t get back together this year.” You said.  
Sebastian grinned. “I see… going for the impossible odds. That’s a horrible strategy, honestly. How much money are you putting down?”

You cocked your head, making a show of thinking about it. “I’ll put 20 galleons on it.”

Sebastian whistled. “Wow, very confident.” 

He looked over at Draco, who had packed up and was leaving Pansy behind him. 

“Interesting.”

You and your friends parted ways on the third floor. Sadie and Sebastian had Arithmancy next, and Tracey was going to go meet up with Michael and hang out by the lake. 

You waited until they were all safely out of sight before you turned and climbed back up the staircase you had just walked down, making your way back up to the fourth floor. You knew the route well - the fourth floor broom closet was Sebastian’s notorious hookup spot because there were no classrooms in use on the level. Lately, you had made it yours, too.

The fourth floor broom closet was a little pocket of easiness in your relationship. You could both rest assured that no classes would be wandering around the fourth floor, and Draco liked your relationship best when there was no way anyone else could find out about it. 

He was always in a good mood here - the witty, smiling version of him that never failed to make you laugh. Outside of the fourth floor, that part of him was rare.

You turned the corner, seeing Draco leaning against the broom closet and looking up at the ceiling. 

“Took you long enough,” he said as you got closer, slipping his arms around your back and pulling you in for a kiss. You grinned into his lips. 

“Sorry, I was conversating.”  
“About?”  
“About you,” you grinned.

“Oh, is that so?” He asked. “What, about how handsome I look?”  
“No, about how long it’ll be until you and Pansy get back together.”

His eyebrows shot up. 

“I bet 20 galleons that you wouldn’t,” you whispered into his ear, then kissed him. “Prove me right.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I might have to.”

He swung open the door to the closet with his left hand, keeping his right hand wrapped around you, and pulled you in. 

“I love our little talks,” he grinned.  
“Tell me about it,” you said back. 

Then he kissed you again, pushing you up against the wall aggressively. 

“Well don’t knock the fucking closet over,” you laughed.

He raised his eyebrows at you again, his expression lit up by a tiny stripe of light that was coming in from the outside. His eyes flashed. 

“Or do,” you said quickly, “I don’t care.”  
______________________________

That night, you both sat in the common room in your respective friend groups. You, Simon, and Tracey were doing homework by the fire; Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle were sitting on one of the couches. 

Your consciousness drifted in and out of their conversation and in and out of your Defense Against the Dark Arts homework. Umbridge had decided that you would be studying defense from a textbook instead of doing any practicing. 

Besides the obvious stupidity of the situation, it meant that you had to pay more attention to the book. And today, it seemed like every time you read a passage you had to go back and read it again because your mind was elsewhere the entire time. 

“ - Pansy,” you heard Draco say, and tuned into his conversation. 

“She’s fit, though,” Blaise said.  
“She’s crazy,” Draco replied, “nothing can make up for crazy.”  
“Well, what are you going to do now?” Crabbe asked. 

“What do you mean?”  
“I mean, who’s going to be your new girl?”

You felt your stomach flip over. For a second, you thought that he might just say your name right then, but instead there was a prolonged silence. Then Draco laughed, one of those mean laughs that you hadn’t heard him use in your vicinity since second or third year. 

“So many to choose from, aren’t there? Especially when they’re all falling at your feet…”

You almost scoffed out loud. 

“So, who are you going for, then?” Crabbe asked.  
“Who says I haven’t gone for them already?” Draco said. 

Your stomach flipped again. Surely he wasn't going to tell them. But part of your mind started racing ahead, picturing what it could be like between you two if your relationship wasn't a secret.

His lackeys were all laughing and jeering.

“Not Daphne…” Blaise said.  
“Of course Daphne,” Draco replied, “I hooked up with her last year. Average.”

Your blood started to boil. Last year? There were other girls? He had never told you that - as far as you were concerned, it had just been you and Pansy last year.

“Millicent?” Blaise asked.  
Draco chuckled again. “No comment,” he drawled, but his tone said _yes_.

Crabbe and Goyle laughed meanly. 

“When did this happen?” Blaise asked.  
“Last week,” Draco replied.

Your eyebrows shot up and you almost dropped your books from your hands. He was hooking up with other girls now? Your mind reeled back to the conversation you had had in the common room on the first day of term. 

_You’re brave._ Did that not matter to him anymore?

“And?” You heard someone ask through your rage.  
“Nothing to write home about,” Draco said cruelly, “but easy enough that I’d do it again.”

You looked over to Tracey and Simon, who were deep into their homework, paying no attention to the conversation at the other side of the room. 

You stood up suddenly, slamming your book closed. 

Tracey looked up at you in surprise. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”  
Simon looked up too. “Did something happen?” He asked.

“No,” you replied icily.  
“Okay, because you look super pissed,” Tracey observed, eyebrows raised. 

“I’m fine,” you said again in a clipped tone, then walked by Draco and his lackeys and left the dungeons. 

You would’ve shoulder checked him had he not been sitting down. 

It didn’t take long for you to hear footsteps approaching behind you. You had anticipated that he might follow you, so you rounded on him before he even reached you. 

“So, who was better?” You asked, “Daphne or Millicent?”

Draco had the good sense to look chastised. “Look, (Y/N), I didn’t know you were in there.”  
“I suppose that’s meant to make me feel better?”

“No. Just that I would never have said those things in front of you.”  
“What does that mean?” You scoffed. “That you just like lying to me?”

Draco looked confused.

“I thought you had _wanted me for so long._ ," you continued. "Or was that just a lie?”  
“No. What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you hooking up with other girls, Malfoy.”

He raised his eyebrows upon hearing you use his last name. 

“That never happened. I’ve never hooked up with Daphne or Millicent. Only you and Pansy. And… some others first and second year, but they don’t count. I swear.”  
“So you were just lying in there?”

He opened his arms as if to say _obviously._

“You could’ve just said that you broke up with Pansy, Draco. I don’t understand why you had to make up all that stuff. It’s too far.”

“It’s what they expect from me.” He said.  
“Then teach them to expect something different. I don’t care if it was a lie or not - the way you talked about those girls was horrible.”

“You don’t even know them.”  
“Neither do you, Draco, so maybe you shouldn’t be making fun of them in the common room.”

“I told you, I was saving face.”  
“It was too much.”  
“It’s what I have to do if this is going to work,” he said. 

You stared at him, unblinking.

“Or do you not want to do this anymore?” He asked.  
You sighed. “I do. Of course I do.”

The tension broke with your words and he let out a breath.

“So then let this go,” he said.

“Just - could you not… talk about hooking up with other girls?”  
“What, are you jealous?”

You grabbed his hand and squeezed it into yours, leaning into his side. “Yes,” you said simply, and he turned around and kissed you. 

“I like you jealous,” he said quietly as you broke apart, and you rolled your eyes.

You resolved to forgive him. As he walked back to the common room and you went on to the library, though, something felt different, like plates had shifted. Would it be like this forever?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed! thanks as always for your comments/kudos :)


	24. Befuddlement Draught

“Befuddlement Draught is a potion particularly adept at causing reckless and ill-informed behavior in its drinker by confusing their senses,” Snape said to introduce the class. 

You had Potions with Ravenclaw again, but Simon wasn't in your class this year. You had been a little worried about who your partner would be, but Draco had put his bag next to you and swung into the empty chair to your right on the first day, which had settled things. 

Being so close to him and having to pretend that nothing was happening between you was always difficult, but today, for some reason, it was particularly hard. 

The Befuddlement Draught needed to be extremely hot before you could add the moonstone dust, and Draco was stirring it around, leaning over the cauldron.

The steam pouring from the mixture was making him sweat a bit, making his hair stick to his forehead. He wiped his brow. He picked up the scurvy grass you had chopped up earlier from the table, and your eyes lingered on his hands, remembering what they felt like on your skin. Soft and warm. His rings were lined up on the table below him.

He ran his other hand through his hair so that it fell back in a messy pattern. After adding the scurvy grass, he started stirring again, his face screwed up in concentration, his big grey eyes squinting slightly. 

He turned back to you after stirring. Your eyes fell down to his lips, then back up to his eyes. 

“Were you going to add the lovage?” He asked, breaking you out of your trance. 

You stood up quickly, your chair shooting back behind you. He raised his eyebrows. 

You went to grab the jar of lovage from your side of the table, taking a fistful of it, but Draco grabbed your wrist before you could add it. 

“It’s just supposed to be ten leaves, (Y/L/N),” he said, “are you alright?”  
“Yeah,” you said, biting your lip, “fine.”

You measured out ten leaves and emptied them into the cauldron, then went back to staring at Draco, who was now looking at you curiously. Prolonged eye contact. 

“The sneezewort,” he said finally, and you remembered that you were supposed to add that too. 

You reached around him to grab the petals that you had measured out earlier. 

“One at a time,” Draco murmured.   
“I know,” you said back.  
“You seem distracted.”

You grinned to yourself as you added in the petals and watched Draco stir the mixture. After you were finished, you looked back up at him. 

“What now?” You asked.  
“It’s done. Just needs to rest.” Draco scoffed. “Were you even paying an ounce of attention?”  
“Yes,” you replied.

He sat down and leaned back into his chair, watching the rest of the class absentmindedly. A strand of his hair had come to hang above his forehead. He didn’t seem to notice. 

You kept trying to make eye contact with him as Snape went around the room inspecting potions, but he seemed to be determined to look the other way. 

Soon enough, Snape was over at your table. 

“Good work, both of you.” He said quickly, then moved on. 

That was some of the highest praise you had ever heard Snape give out. You turned to Draco with a grin, but he was still avoiding your gaze.

Finally, it was time to bottle your potions. You needed to fill four jars, and since you were the last ones to be inspected, you were also the last pair in the classroom. Draco finished pouring his two jars, took them over to Snape’s desk, and walked out of the room without acknowledging you. You were hot on his tail, running out of the classroom to catch him. 

“Draco,” you called as you ran up behind him. 

He turned to look at you, one of the rings on his right hand catching the sunlight filtering down from one of the skylights. God, if he wasn't the most attractive boy in the entire school. 

You grinned, threw your arms around his neck, and kissed him. Your stomach flipped. You had been wanting to do this all class. 

But he pushed you off, throwing your hands away from him. 

“We’re in public,” he said.   
You looked around the empty corridor. “There’s no one here.”

You took a step forward to try to kiss him again, but he stepped back. 

“There’s classrooms down here. Anyone could walk down here anytime. And they would see us.”  
“Nobody’s coming down here, Draco.”

You tried to take a step toward him again, but he threw up his hand in between you.

He scoffed. “Sorry, did you have a little taste of the Befuddlement Draught?”  
You shook your head, taken aback. “No. What?”

“Then I don’t understand what’s gotten into you.”  
“Is it such a big deal that I want to kiss you? I thought we were together,” you said. 

His eyes darted around the hall as if to make sure there was nobody who could’ve possibly heard you.

“Yes, it is a big deal. And you know why.”  
“Fine, whatever. Shall we go up to the fourth floor, then?”  
“I have class.”  
“I’m sorry?”  
“We aren’t hooking up right now. I have class.”  
“No, you don’t. You have a free period.”

He looked down. 

“Did I do something?” You asked incredulously.   
“Yes,” he said, looking back up at you. “You just tried to kiss me in the hallway where anybody could have seen. You can’t _do_ things like that.”

“It’s hard for me having to keep everything a secret.”  
“It’s what has to happen. Take it or leave it.”

You scoffed. “Take it or leave it? You’ve certainly changed your tune from _I’ve wanted you for so long.”_  
“You knew it would be this way. So you have to deal with it.” He said.  
“For how much longer?”  
“I don’t know.”

You clenched your jaw. He turned and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you all enjoyed, thanks as always for your comments/kudos <3


	25. Jealousy

It was one of the last warm days of the year, so you and your friends were taking advantage of it by going swimming out in the lake. 

It had been about a month since you and Draco had your argument in the hallway, and you had tentatively made up since. Then again, you barely saw each other anymore. It was hard to meet up when he acted like you didn’t exist whenever you were in the same room.

You two had been sneaking away together less as the year went on and your courses got harder, and most of the time when you saw Draco he was hanging out with all his lackeys and Pansy, which was infuriating. But every time you brought it up to him, he would get angry and remind you that he wasn't going to change for you. 

Sometimes you wondered if it was worth it, being with him, when he acted so distant sometimes, when you never knew what he would say, when the only thing you _did_ know was that he would never say the things you wanted to hear. 

There were days when you wanted to tell your friends what was going on so badly it hurt, days when you secretly resented him for avoiding your eye contact. 

But then there were days when you turned the corner on the fourth floor and he was there, smiling at you, the sun shining from the window behind him, haloing his hair. And the days when you left Simon and Sebastian’s room late and he caught up with you in the common room - a short kiss, a whisper. 

The sun was shining high in the sky today, and you promised yourself to put all thoughts of Draco out of your mind and just enjoy the time with your friends. 

“I have news,” Sebastian said, looking at you knowingly.

“Is this important news?” Sadie asked.  
“Very important,” Sebastian replied. 

“I have intel as of this morning that Daniel Rottinger got kicked off the Quidditch team due to his absolutely abysmal grades. Apparently Snape couldn’t cover for him with Dumbledore anymore.”

You felt your heart leap, and all your friends turned to you. 

“So that means -” you started, but Sebastian cut you off.  
“Yes, that means that they have an open Chaser spot. Tryouts next Wednesday.”

Tracey squealed in excitement. “Oh, I can’t wait to see you play in all the matches!”

You smiled. “Don’t get my hopes up. I’m sure half of Slytherin is going to try out.”  
“Well, you’re better than all of Slytherin,” Sadie said, “and I’m not just saying that.”

She turned to Simon. “I can’t wait to see her make an utter fool of Dennis Madgely. He’s always going on about his skills on a broom, honestly. He needs to be humbled.”

Simon grinned. 

You pictured yourself flying on the Quidditch pitch in an actual game, and lost yourself in the fantasy as your friends continued conversating. 

“Earth to (Y/N),” you heard Simon say, and you snapped back into the conversation. 

“Yes?”  
“We’re talking about Umbridge’s latest assignment. Have you done it?”  
“The acromantula paper? No, of course not. I’ve never seen one, so I’m not sure how I’m supposed to provide a detailed description of it.”

“Yeah, right? She’s thick.” Simon mused. “Lupin may have been a Gryffindor and a werewolf, but at least he knew what he was doing.”

You snorted. Seeing movement on the shore, you turned to see three people walking. Upon closer inspection, you identified them as Pansy, Draco, and Blaise. Your friends followed your gaze. 

“Aw, shit, does this mean they’re back together?” Sebastian asked.

“I’m closest,” Sadie said proudly, “It’s been almost exactly a month. Oh, I’m going to be so rich. Everyone say goodbye to your Galleons.”

“I’m not sure they are,” you said.  
“Of course they are,” Tracey rolled her eyes. “They’re both horrible. They’re meant for each other.”

You watched them walk for a little while longer, feeling irrationally angry, then resolved not to think about him again for the rest of the afternoon. Again.

It was getting dark when you returned to the common room. You ran up the stairs to your room, already anticipating a nice shower. 

Draco had other ideas. He was sitting on your bed, making himself entirely at home. Your heart leaped - he almost never came up to your room anymore, too afraid that someone would see him. 

He got off your bed, walking over to you with confident strides, a grin on his face. 

“It’s been a while,” he said, then leaned down to kiss you. 

The image of him walking with Pansy popped unbidden into your mind. 

You ducked under his embrace and walked away from him. “Yeah, it’s been a while.”

“What’s wrong with you?”  
“Why were you with Pansy?”  
“Because it would be weird if I wasn't.”  
“You know she wants to get back together with you. She’s always making moves on you.”  
“You can’t possibly think that I would get back with her.”

You sighed, sitting down on your bed. 

“No, I don’t think that.”  
“Then why -”

“Because we’re together, and the fact that you hang out with Pansy more than me is fucking annoying. And in case you’re wondering how it looks, all my friends think you two have gotten back together.”

“You know that’s not true.”

You stood back up from your bed, looking for the words to make him understand. 

“Of course I know! But it’s just… embarrassing! And I hate seeing it!”  
“So you’re jealous of Pansy because you think I like her - because you think it looks like I like her - even though you know that I don’t?” He was annoyed now. 

“No! I’m jealous of Pansy because she gets to be around you whenever she wants! You don’t look at her weird when she sits next to you! She gets to walk around with you and hang off your every word, and I can’t!”

“That’s unfair.”

“Yeah, it’s fucking unfair! I feel like I never see you anymore! And when I do see you, you expect me to act like everything’s fine!”

“I thought you knew what we were getting into.”  
“I thought I did too. But when was the last time we were even alone together? And even when we are alone, I’m not allowed to be near you just in case someone turns a corner!”

“I told you, it’s what has to happen!”

“Well, I’m tired of it. I’m tired of having to sneak around all the time. It feels like nothing has changed since last year.”

He took a step closer to you, grabbing your waist. 

“A lot has changed.”  
“Oh yeah? Because you still have to hide in my room or pull me into an alcove every time you want to talk to me.”

“A lot has changed,” he insisted. “I broke up with Pansy. You broke up with Thomas.”

You snatched your wrist out of his grip. 

“Well, maybe that was a mistake. Dean was never scared to be seen with me.”

You picked the thing that you knew would hurt him the most to say, and you saw the truth of that in how his expression changed. He released your waist from his grip and took a step back from you, his eyes widening. He scoffed, but his brows furrowed as if he was trying to puzzle through what you had just said. 

“You’re going to compare me to Thomas?”  
“How could I not?”

He shook his head in disbelief. He would never say so, but you could see the hurt on his face. You sighed. You didn’t want to make him angry or sad, not really. You just wanted him to understand.

“I don’t want Dean back, Draco. I just want you.”

He looked at you, confusion painted all over his features.

“But you still think nothing’s changed between us since last year?”  
“Well, has it?”  
“Yeah, it has. Because... you know how I feel about you.”

“It doesn’t matter how we feel if you never let us act on it.” You said quietly. 

He just looked at you imploringly. You weren’t sure what he wanted you to say.

“Is this going to be a secret forever?” You asked.  
He exhaled, looking up at the ceiling. “I don’t know.”

You sank back onto your bed. You knew you had to say it, but you weren’t sure what it would mean. How he would take it. You closed your eyes and pressed on. 

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

You felt him exhale again. You opened your eyes again as he sat down next to you on your bed. He grabbed both your hands in his.

“Yes, you can,” He said. 

You felt tears prick at your eyes. He leaned in and kissed you lightly. When you broke apart, he rested his forehead on yours. 

“Tell me how you feel about me, then,” you whispered.

He looked down, his forehead still against yours. You closed your eyes, willing him to find enough courage to tell you, to say enough to rid you of all your doubts. 

But he didn’t say anything at all. You opened your eyes slowly to find he was already making eye contact with you. 

“Tell me,” you said again, keeping your voice soft and emotion-free even though you felt like you really were about to cry. Your eyes searched his, looking for reassurance.

“I’m trying, I promise. I’m trying my best,” he said. You pulled away from him, looking down at your blankets. You felt his eyes on you.  
“That’s not an answer,” you said softly, “you can’t even tell me that much.”

He grabbed your hands, making you look up at him, then kissed you. You broke apart from him, anger and hurt flaring up in your chest.

“You can’t even admit it to yourself,” you said. 

He wrapped his arms around your back and hugged you tightly to him. You let him, but your arms stayed static at your sides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you all enjoyed!
> 
> thanks for the comments/kudos, i love reading them :)


	26. Tryouts

It was the day of Quidditch tryouts. 

The pitch was rainy and overcast, and you were right - it seemed like half of Slytherin house had turned out to give it a go. 

You gripped your broom tightly, looking up through the drizzling rain to find your friends in the stands. Even Simon had come out to support you. You grinned up at them. Montague, the new Slytherin captain, had split everyone into teams, and your team was in the first scrimmage. 

Montague blew his whistle, and everyone rose into the air, some more shakily than others. 

You felt a pang in your chest as you left the ground. Flying always reminded you of Cedric, sometimes so much so that you had to touch down and leave the pitch. But today, you felt like his presence was a positive force all around you, like he was a part of you. You smiled to yourself. 

Montague unlocked the chest, and you watched as the two bludgers shot up into the air. Next came the Snitch, glinting gold and immediately leaving your line of sight. You would make a horrible Seeker. 

Luckily, though, that’s not what you were trying out for. The Quaffle was thrown up into the air last, and, quick as a dart, you dove through the air and caught it. 

You rocketed toward the other end of the pitch, hearing team members call out to you on either side. You tossed the Quaffle to a fourth-year, who caught it but was flying so slowly that the entire opposing team was on him in seconds. You flew back, parting the air and driving the opposing team away. The fourth year, clearly overwhelmed, threw the Quaffle back to you. 

You rose higher into the air as you raced toward the rings, and felt a rush of air as you threw the ball through the shortest hoop. You heard your friends cheering below and grinned. 

The rest of the scrimmage went similarly - it became almost a solo game between you and the entire opposing team. You tried to pass the Quaffle a couple more times, but apparently all the other hopefuls on your team were absolutely rubbish at playing Chaser. 

The rain was creating a bit of a fog on the pitch, but you could hear your friends cheering below each time you scored. 

After about an hour, the field had narrowed to you and two other Slytherin guys - one a seventh year, one a fourth year. 

The entire Slytherin team stood on the sidelines, under the stands so that they wouldn’t get wet. Montague conferred with the Keeper, Bletchley, then walked out towards you. 

You tried to catch Draco’s eye, but he was looking at the ground. 

“Alright,” Montague said, “(Y/L/N), Sharpe, and Macdonald - we’re going to field you against each other in a couple of activities before we make our decision.”

Sharpe, the fourth year, went first. Montague threw the Quaffle up at him five times, and he caught it four. Next, he went one-on-one against Bletchley, managing to get the Quaffle through the hoops two out of five times. 

Macdonald went next. He caught all five throws, but Bletchley blocked two of his shots. 

Montague turned toward you, motioning you into the sky. You felt your heart thunder with anticipation as you rose into the sky, your wet hair plastered to your forehead, your uniform weighed down by water. 

You could barely see Montague and the rest of the team below you. 

The whistle blew, and the Quaffle hurtled up towards you. You dove down a little bit and caught it perfectly. 

You breathed out, shaking off your nerves.

The Quaffle came up again, and you scooped it out of the air. Then again. Then again. You caught it all five times. You could hear Sadie and Sebastian chanting your name from the stands. 

_Just four shots, and I’m on,_ you thought. _Just make the shots._

You flew toward Bletchley as fast as you could, faking like you were going for the right hoop but turning and throwing the Quaffle through the left one at the last minute. 

One in. Then two, then three.

One more shot. 

Bletchley was wise to your strategy now, so he came to meet you in the air as you flew toward him. You tried to dodge, but he blocked your way. You could outfly him, you knew that, but you just needed to get past him. 

Your hand slipped off your broom, which was slick with rain, and you were forced to grab it on the other side. There. That was an idea. 

As you grew closer and closer to Bletchley, it solidified in your mind. 

Then he was on you. 

You took a deep breath, then swung your whole body around your broom so that you were hanging it from it upside-down, one handed, other hand gripping the Quaffle for dear life. 

You heard gasps from the stands and from Bletchley himself. 

Then you righted yourself, flying as fast you could towards the hoops, and there they were. You shot the Quaffle as hard as you could through the middle hoop, breaking into a relieved laugh as it went through. 

You turned around to hear cheering coming from the stands. It was more than just your friends - a bunch of Slytherins were clapping and whooping.

You grinned, your heart pounding, and touched down on the pitch. Montague was beside himself. 

“In all my years of Quidditch, I have never seen a move like that,” he shouted. 

“So, am I-” you started, but he cut you off.   
“Of course you’re on the bloody team! Are you fucking kidding me?!”

You felt like you were floating, the grin on your face impossible to wipe off. Sharpe and Macdonald stood off to the side, glaring. 

You turned to see your friends sprinting across the pitch, most of the other Slytherins following at less frenzied pace. 

Sadie reached you first, enveloping you in a bear hug. Simon and Tracey grabbed you next, and Sebastian hoisted you on his shoulders. 

The crowd clapped for you. You turned around to look at Draco, expecting him to have averted his eyes, but instead he was staring at you the same way he looked at you sometimes just after he took your shirt off.

You felt your heart jump. 

Sebastian eventually let you down, and you left the pitch in the crowd of Slytherins that were making their way back to the castle. 

The drizzle that had turned to rain had now become a downpour, and you could barely see where you were going at all. As you walked through the gates, someone grabbed your arm. 

You turned around nonchalantly, expecting it to have been a mistake, but you saw Draco standing there instead. 

“Malfoy?” You said in clipped tones, remembering to call him by his last name in front of everyone. Your friends all rounded on you. 

“Get off her, Malfoy.” Sebastian said. 

You tried frantically to read the expression on Draco’s face. You, him, and your friends were the only ones standing still in the crowd, and pissed-off Slytherins were brushing by you and shoulder checking you as they tried to exit the pitch. 

“Seriously, can you just let her go? She’s your Chaser now.” Tracey said.   
“I have no intention of letting her go,” he said. 

You swallowed. 

“Want me to fight him for you, (Y/N)?” You heard Sebastian pipe up from behind you, and you weren’t sure whether or not he was kidding. 

“Oh, calm down, Daley,” Malfoy said, his eyes never leaving yours.   
“It’s fine, Sebastian,” you said. 

You stared at him for a second more, wondering frantically what was about to happen. 

“I have never,” Draco said in a low voice, his hand resting possessively on your waist, “seen someone fly like that before.”

You heard a noise of surprise from behind you - probably Sebastian. A couple of other students who were walking through the gates paused to see what was happening. 

“So you admit that I’m better on a broom than you?” You said. 

You expected him to joke back, but instead his eyes flashed with something different. They flicked down to look at your lips.

“I don’t know about all that,” he whispered.

The hand on your waist tightened, and he brought the other hand up to not-so-gently grab the back of your neck.

“What the fuck is going on?” You heard Simon say from behind you. “Have I missed something?”  
“Quiet, Simon!” You heard Sadie hiss. 

Draco looked at you almost hungrily, and you brought your hands up to his back, unsure. He nodded at you, leaning closer to you and tangling one of his hands in your hair. 

In your peripheral vision, you saw that more than a couple students had stopped now, watching you. The crowd was still moving around you, like you were in the eye of a hurricane.

Then he leaned his face down, using the hand on the back of your neck to angle your face up towards his.

And kissed you. Right in front of everyone. 

You tightened your arms around his back, pulling you to him, and he brought his hands away from your face and snaked them around your back, gripping your wet robes. 

You broke apart, and the world was silent. 

“You’re right,” Draco said softly, so that only you could hear him, “I don’t care if my father… I can’t keep this a secret anymore. I don’t want to.”

You threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly. 

Then you turned to your friends, who all looked comically surprised - their jaws hanging open, their eyebrows raised in disbelief. 

“Well…” you said, trailing off. 

You weren’t sure what to do. 

Then Simon started chuckling. Everyone turned to him, confused. 

He kept laughing, doubled over now, the rain pouring over him. Then Sadie snorted too. Then Sebastian and Tracey broke out into a smile, and soon all your friends were hysterical. You couldn’t help but start laughing too. 

“What’s going on?” Draco asked quietly, and you just turned back to him and kissed him again. 

You broke apart. 

“Right,” Sebastian said, “hold on. So this means that you cheated in our bet. You knew that Draco and Pansy wouldn’t get back together.”

You grinned. “I believe you owe me five galleons, Sebastian.”  
“No, no, no way,” he started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)! for the time being!


	27. The Inquisitorial Squad

You and Sadie stood in the middle of the Hog’s Head, the only two Slytherins in a crowd of about 25 students. 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood at the front of the room, eyes flipping over the crowd, chronicling faces. 

Hearing about Harry’s group had been a stroke of luck - you had been walking behind Ginny Weasley in the hallway and heard her mentioning it to Neville. 

Luckily, Neville was still indebted to you (and possibly a bit infatuated with you) after you had kissed him in the hallway third year. So when you had sat down next to him in Herbology and demanded to know what was going on, he had told you everything. 

Defense Against the Dark Arts was usually one of your best classes - you actually quite enjoyed it - so your slipping grade under Umbridge’s new teaching method was annoying. 

The thought of actually being able to engage in your favorite subject after the dry spell was tantalizing, and, besides, you hated Umbridge so much that you would do anything that you thought would get under her skin. 

You had brought it up to your friends that night. Sadie had agreed immediately. 

Tracey and Sebastian had refused - Sebastian hated Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Tracey hated the idea of having to take commands from Gryffindors. 

Simon wasn't even worth asking, truthfully - he had never participated in any extracurricular activities in his life, and didn’t plan on it. 

So that left you and Sadie alone in the Hog’s Head, exchanging a look as you saw how everyone else in the room was looking at you. Everyone else seemed to have found themselves a chair, but you and Sadie couldn’t find any and were forced to stand in the back of the room. 

Finally, after a couple of moments of awkward silence, Hermione stood up. 

“Hi. So, you all know why you’re here…” she said, trailing off.

Colin Creevey cut her off. “Yeah, but why are _they_ here?” He asked, motioning back toward you. “They’re Slytherins.”

Dean elbowed Colin in the ribs, clearly annoyed - but apparently not annoyed enough to come to your defense. Everyone turned in their seats to stare at you. 

“Yes, well…” Hermione looked down at Harry, who shrugged. “Why _are_ you here?”

“Same as you, I expect,” you said cooly. “Umbridge is a shit teacher. I want to know what I’m doing.”

“Sorry,” some Ravenclaw that you didn’t recognize piped up, “but aren’t you dating Draco Malfoy?”

A couple murmurs went up in the crowd. You rolled your eyes. 

“Oh, so even nobodies like you know my business now?” You answered, voice dripping with fake politeness. The Ravenclaw looked taken aback.

“Oh, please,” you heard Dean say, “come off it, (Y/N).”  
“Come off what, Dean? Did I miss the ‘no Slytherins allowed’ memo?”

“I don’t care if you’re here,” he said, “just stop insulting people.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but Sadie grabbed your arm, motioning up to where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were fixing you with an unreadable expression. 

“Right,” Ron said. “Well…”  
“Let them stay,” Dean said impersonally. 

You knew that it was out of no great love for you, but you were thankful anyway. Ron’s eyes darted back and forth from Dean to you, then he looked at Harry. Harry nodded.

“Well, that’s settled,” you said, turning toward Colin Creevey and glaring at him.  
“Leave it,” Sadie hissed.

Hermione pressed on, choosing to ignore your comment. 

“We need a teacher. A proper teacher. One who’s had real experience defending themselves against the dark arts.”  
“Why?” asked someone that you couldn’t see in the first row.   
“Because You-Know-Who’s back, you tosser,” Ron rolled off, and you snorted. 

An argument quickly broke out - clearly, some people in the crowd didn’t believe Harry. 

“If Potter could tell us more about how Diggory got killed…” someone else said. 

You saw Marietta Edgecombe grab Cho Chang’s hand in the corner, and felt Sadie reach for yours. 

“I’m not gonna talk about Cedric.” Harry said, and you let out a sigh of relief. 

Harry looked about ready to leave, too, until Lovegood mentioned he could produce a Patronus charm. Your jaw almost dropped then - you hadn’t heard of any student below a seventh year being able to do that. 

It wasn't long before everyone was forming a single-file line to sign up. You and Sadie were the last ones to sign, and as you were waiting in line you saw Ginny and Dean grab hands as they walked out the door. You were surprised to find it didn’t bother you at all. 

You waited next to Sadie as she signed her name, making eye contact with Harry. 

“I heard you’re playing for Slytherin now,” he said evenly.   
“Yeah, I am.”  
“Must be nice, having your boyfriend on the same team. I hope you aren’t lying about why you’re here.”

You felt a stroke of annoyance ripple through you. 

“She isn’t.”

You turned around to see Neville standing there. 

“I mean, I don’t understand why she’s with him either. But I think she actually does want to be here.”

You gave Neville a quick smile and turned around. 

“He’s right. As much as I’m loathe to admit it, Potter, you’re a good wizard. And more to the point,” you added, “I believe you. About everything that happened with Cedric. I’m not sure if you knew, but we were friends. And… well, I believe you.”

He nodded slowly. You nodded back, then took Sadie’s hand and left the Hog’s Head. 

It wasn't long before Umbridge retaliated by forming a group of her own - the Inquisitorial Squad. Luckily, none of your friends had joined.

Unluckily, all of Draco’s lackeys and Pansy Parkinson had. And... well, so had Draco. 

He had come to your room to tell you so, waiting outside instead of on your bed like usual. 

“Draco,” you had grinned, pulling him inside and kissing him. 

“Wait,” he had stopped you with a hand on your shoulder. “You’re about to be pissed off at me.”

You raised your eyebrows. 

“I’ve joined Umbridge’s group.”

You raised your eyebrows. “No, you haven’t.”  
“Yes, I have.”  
“You hate Umbridge.”  
“Of course I hate Umbridge. It’s just what I have to do. My father’s written to me and told me so. And Pansy and Blaise and all of them would think it was weird if I didn’t.”

“They know we’re dating.”

Draco sighed. “Yes… well, see, the thing is, that fact has become a bit of an issue. Pansy’s been saying I’m not a real Slytherin anymore, and I’ve caught Crabbe nodding a couple times when she says so.”

You sighed, sinking down onto your bed. 

“It’s always something with you, isn’t it…” you trailed off. 

Honestly, though, you weren’t that mad. The Inquisitorial Squad was a joke to everyone outside of Slytherin, and picturing how much Draco would hate following Umbridge’s orders made you grin. 

He lay down next to you. 

“So, you aren’t mad?”  
You rolled over to face him. “You’re going to look ridiculous with that pin on.”

He laughed, bringing his hand up to your head and leaning in to kiss you.

“Good,” he said once you broke apart, “because I know you’re in Potter’s stupid group.”

You raised your eyebrows. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  
“Yes you do. Rest assured that the only reason I’m not pissed about it is because I’m in Umbridge’s, so I really have no ground to stand on.”

He kissed you again, hands moving under your shirt and against your back. 

Then, all of a sudden, he broke apart from you, getting up and walking towards the door. 

“Hello?” You said, annoyed.

“Sorry,” he turned around with a grin on his face, “I can’t be late for dinner.”

He winked at you, then left the room. You flopped back down onto your bed, fancying a nap. You thought you might just skip dinner tonight, go get some food from Simon’s horde later, and hope that Draco would come back to your room once he finished eating. 

After a while of lazing around in your bed, you decided to go downstairs and see if Simon and Sebastian were around. 

Once you reached the common room, you realized it was later than you thought it had been - the fire was dying down and the lake was black outside the windows. 

You stood there for a second, wondering whether or not it would be worth it to go into Simon and Sebastian’s room. Simon would almost definitely be asleep, but Sebastian might be up and he might have extra food. 

Before you could move towards the door, though, a girl stood up from the couch and strode toward you. You turned around to see Pansy Parkinson. 

“(Y/L/N),” she spit, “you have a lot of nerve.”

You had been wondering when this would come. It had been a week and change since you and Draco had kissed on the Quidditch pitch, and, obviously, word had gotten around. You had been doing your best to avoid Pansy on Draco’s advice, but it wasn't like you were going to avoid your own common room.

You turned to Pansy, fixing a condescending smile on your face. 

“Parkinson. I’m not quite sure what you mean.”

She let out an angry laugh. You could see the other people in the common room turning toward you, craning their necks to see what was going on. 

“You know exactly what I mean,” she growled, “you stole my boyfriend, you bitch.”  
“Is it stealing if he begged me to take him from you?” You asked.

Someone else in the common room chuckled, and Pansy’s eyes flashed with anger. She took a step towards you and grabbed your wrist, trying to back you against the wall. 

But you had had enough of Parkinson for the night. 

You grabbed the arm that was holding your wrist with your free hand, digging your nails into her skin as hard as you could. She yelped - half pain, half surprise. 

“Need I remind you what happened last time you tried to confront me about Draco, Parkinson?” You asked, watching her expression get darker and darker. “I believe it ended with you on your ass in the hallway.”

She snorted, trying to wrench her arm away from you. You dug your nails in deeper. 

“Really?” She said, “because I believe it ended with you crying by the lake after Dean broke up with you.”  
“Yeah, thanks for that one,” you said angrily, “but in the end, it looks like I’m still the one who got what I wanted.”

With that, you let go of her arm and pushed her off you. She took a stumbling step backward.

“Umbridge will hear about this,” she growled, holding up her arm. You could see the marks from your nails standing out against her pale skin. Not deep enough to draw blood. 

“No, she won’t,” you heard someone say, and turned around to see Draco standing a couple feet away from you, a slight smile on his face. 

“Piss off, Malfoy,” Pansy said.  
“I plan to, Parkinson. Never much liked being around you, anyway. But if you try to tell Umbridge, I’ll tell her you’re lying. Who do you think she’ll believe?”

Pansy was seething now, her hands shaking with rage. She turned back toward you. 

“Lucky you, (Y/L/N). Looks like your boyfriend’s come to protect you just in time.”  
Draco laughed meanly. “I don’t think she needed me to step in, Pansy. A couple more minutes and you’d be getting wiped off the floor.”

He walked over to you and wrapped his arm around your back possessively. 

“I’ll get you both,” she said, turning and walking away.

“Thanks, Pans. I look forward to seeing what clever scheme you cook up this time.” Draco called after her. 

Everyone in the common room was staring at you two now. 

“The hell are you all looking at?” Draco said, and they whipped their heads back towards the fireplace. 

He turned to whisper in your ear. “I fancy a trip up to your room.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some more happiness! 
> 
> thanks for your comments, i love seeing what you guys think :)


	28. Perks of the Badge

It was the third meeting of Dumbledore’s Army, and, you had to admit - Harry was a good teacher. You had been looking forward to the meeting all week, chatting with Sadie about it so much that Simon had said he might join just to see what all the fuss was about. 

The meeting started as it usually did - with everyone practicing _Expelliarmus_ on the practice dummy. You had all been perfecting the spell since the first meeting - since second year, honestly - and nobody was having trouble with it at all save Neville. 

It was almost Christmas break, the last meeting of term. You were going home for the holidays as usual, as was Draco. You and him had entertained the idea of you coming to the Manor, but eventually had decided against it on the off-chance that something went wrong. It was more than an off-chance, really - Lucius had made his feelings on you all too clear.

As Draco had put it, “my father is a bit… well, he’s my father. He’s apt to ruin your Christmas, and I would rather that not happen.”

So you had settled on writing each other letters. You still had to go into Hogsmeade and get him a gift. As the practice dummy bounced around the circle, your mind turned to wondering what you would get him. 

You almost missed your go - the dummy was upon you by the time you yelled the disarming spell. 

“A bit slow today, (Y/N),” Harry observed.  
“Sorry, I was distracted,” you replied.

He grinned. “I know it seems like a simple spell, but remember how important it is.”

You nodded, watching the dummy passively as the rest of the students took a turn with it. 

“ _Expelliarmus,_ ” Neville yelled, and the wand jumped out of the dummy’s hand. There was a moment of silence, then everyone broke into wild cheers, dummy forgotten. Neville looked down at his wand like he had never seen it before in his life. 

You found yourself clapping along, happy that Neville had finally gotten it. You looked to your right to see Sadie was smiling too. “Never thought I’d be clapping for a Gryffindor,” she said. 

The rest of the meeting flew by.

At the end, Harry thanked everyone for a great end to the year, reminding them that there would be no more classes until after Christmas break. 

“Remember - if you’re in the same house, try to use different exits, and make sure to stagger. See you all next time!” He shouted as everyone turned to leave.

You waved goodbye to Sadie, promising to see her soon, and walked toward the back door. You noticed Harry lingering in the middle of the room, and Cho wasn't moving as fast as everyone else either. You turned around and made eye contact with Hermione, who was apparently noticing the same thing. 

You and Hermione weren’t close by any means - you had never even had a one-on-one conversation, in fact - but when you raised your eyebrows at her she grinned and raised hers back.

You turned and saw Dean leaving from the back door. You had been meaning to thank him for standing up for you in the Hog’s Head, and now that everything from fourth year had settled, you thought it was time you cleared the air. 

“Dean,” you called out, and he turned around. You noticed Ginny was walking beside him as you walked into the hallways. 

“Sorry - I just wanted to have a word with you, if that’s alright?”

Dean looked at Ginny, who shrugged. 

“Yeah, okay, what about?”  
“Just wanted to clear the air.”

He nodded. 

“See you in the common room,” Ginny said, turning and walking away. 

“I wanted to thank you. For what you did in the Hog’s Head.”

Dean nodded again. “Yeah, that’s alright. You can be a bit of a dick, but I know you aren’t here to spy on us or anything like that.”

You continued. “And - well, about everything that happened last year. It’s been a year since we broke up -”

Dean scoffed. “Listen, (Y/N), we’re fine. Don’t push it. I don’t want to hear about your new boyfriend.”

You winced. “Yeah, I know we’re fine, but things are still a bit weird. I just want to tell you what really happened.”  
“I know what really happened. You liked Malfoy, and you were too scared to tell me, so you just strung me along.”

“That’s not what happened.”  
“Then what did?”

You took a breath. “I liked you. I never thought - not even for a second - about cheating on you with Draco. I did have feelings for him, that much is true. But at the time I wasn't even sure that I did. And the whole set up at the lake - Pansy was the one who wrote those notes.”

“What am I supposed to say to that?” Dean said quietly, “no matter whether or not you were going to cheat on me, you had feelings for him. And no matter whether or not Pansy wrote the notes, you still went.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I get it. I’m sorry, Dean. I... really did love you.”  
“Alright, well…” he said, trailing off.  
“You want to go see Ginny,” you said, smiling tentatively.

Dean shrugged. “And you probably want to go see Malfoy.”  
“I’m happy for you,” you said.  
“Thanks. Can’t say you being with Malfoy is what I would’ve wanted, but. Yeah. Glad you’re happy too.”

You both nodded, then, almost at the same time, broke into grins. You held out your arms, and, after a moment of hesitation, Dean hugged you. 

Then he turned and walked away. You watched him go for a second, then turned the other way to walk back towards the Slytherin dungeons. 

You had almost reached the entrance when you turned a corner and saw him in front of you. 

Draco grinned.

“I’ve been wondering whether or not you would turn up in the halls.”  
“I was in the bathroom,” you said quickly. 

“Oh?” Draco took a step closer to you, “really?”  
“Yes,” you said, trying to lean into your excuse, “I hate using the bathroom in the girls dorm.”

Draco was close enough to touch you now, so close, but he stood with his hands behind his back. 

“Wanna know what I think?” He asked quietly.  
“Never,” you replied.  
“I think you were at Potter’s club,” he breathed out. 

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” you said easily.

“Then maybe I should take you up to Umbridge,” Draco said, his Inquisitorial Squad badge glinting in the moonlight.

You grinned. “You wouldn’t dare.”  
He grinned back. “And you wouldn’t dare lie to your boyfriend.”

“Of course I wouldn’t. Potter doesn’t have a club. I wish he did, so I could join.”

He fingered his badge. “Careful, saying things like that to me. I’m under obligations here.”

You moved closer to him, so that your bodies were touching, just barely. He still kept his hands behind his back, and yours hung at your sides. 

“I hate that stupid badge,” you breathed.   
“Really?” He said back, so quietly you could barely hear him. “Even if it means I get to be out past curfew?”

And then his hands moved, one wrapping around your back and pulling you into him, the other hand grabbing your neck aggressively. 

You could feel him breathe against you, and you looked up at him to see the same lust that you were sure was all over your face reflected in his. 

“Where should we go?” He said, and you shrugged.

“Kitchens it is, then,” he decided, and started walking, his arms still wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you along with him. 

You walked in the back entrance to the kitchens, quickly wandering into the pantry that you knew was the least used. It was late enough that all the house elves were asleep. You looked up at all the food above you. 

Draco came up behind you, resting his head on top of yours, then lifting you up so that you were sitting on the counter. He stood between your legs, looking up at you, one hand on your right thigh, the other bracing himself against the edge of the counter. 

“Kiss me,” he said. 

You grinned, playing hard to get. 

“Kiss me,” he said again, more aggressively now, and you looked up, sighing. 

He reached his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you down to his lips forcefully.

“I thought we were gonna eat,” you said.  
“Then clearly you don’t know me very well.”  
“Just this once,” you said jokingly, “I thought you might have pure intentions.”

He leaned back from you, eyes dancing up and down your body. “I never have pure intentions.” He gazed at you for a little while longer, then his hands were around your waist. “Take your shirt off.”

You put your hands in the air, knowing he wouldn’t be able to reach high enough to take it off for you while you were sitting on the counter and he was still on the ground. 

“Oh, fuck you.” 

You raised your eyebrows. 

“Get down, then,” he said simply, stepping back so that you would have a place to land. You stayed put. He raised his eyebrows, giving you a chance. 

Then he was wrapping his hands around your waist again and pulling you down. His hands quickly transitioned to the hem of your shirt as you dropped, so by the time you hit the ground it was already halfway off. 

He threw it down on the pantry floor and shook his head at you. “You should learn to do what I say.” he said, then backed you against the counter and kissed you. 

You bit his bottom lip hard. He exhaled in surprise, then pulled at your hair in retaliation. You let out a little noise of surprise, and he broke the kiss to mimic it. You reached up your hand to grab at his hair, but he captured both your wrists in his and pinned them behind your back, spinning you around and pressing you into the wall.

You brought your hands up to the sides of his face, holding it gently as he kissed you aggressively, his hands coming down to your thighs and lifting you into the air. 

You wrapped your legs around him as he slammed you into the wall again, crying out as your bare skin made contact with the cold stone wall. 

You couldn’t help but think how disheveled you two looked as you made your way back to the dungeons. Draco’s hair was a mess, his cheeks were pink, and his lips looked - well, they looked exactly as you would expect them to.

You couldn’t imagine you looked much better. Judging by the looks Draco was shooting you, you definitely didn’t. 

You turned down one of the hallways that opened to the courtyards, and shivered as the winter air seeped into you. 

Draco turned.

“Are you cold?” He asked tenderly, wrapping an arm around you. You leaned into him. 

“Yeah.”

Suddenly, he pulled away from you. “Pity, that,” he said, then started racing down the corridor. You ran after him, catching him and shoving him playfully. 

“You are such a git, I don’t know why I bother.”  
“You know exactly why you bother,” he said. 

But he grabbed your hand all the same, taking off the sweater he was wearing under his robes, and putting out a hand to stop you from walking. 

“Can’t have you freeze,” he said gently, pulling the sweater on over your head. 

“Your hair is a right mess,” he observed.   
“Yours is too,” you countered.  
“Figured it would be,” he mused, then his eyes caught on something on your neck.

“What is it?” You asked.

He laughed. “Good luck explaining that one to your parents.”

You shoved him again. “You did not. You did not!”  
He grinned. “I did. Careful shoving me, you’re wearing my sweater. I could take it back at any time, you know.”

You eventually made your way back to the common room. 

“Another successful day of being on the Inquisitorial Squad,” he said.   
“Stop talking about the Inquisitorial Squad if you don’t want to piss me off before bed,” you replied.

He leaned into your ear. “So I’m staying with you tonight?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you all enjoyed!
> 
> thank you for the comments/kudos as always :) i love reading them!


	29. Slytherin vs Ravenclaw

It was the day of the first Quidditch match since you had come back from Christmas break - Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin. Slytherin had won against Ravenclaw earlier in the year, but that had been before you were on the team. You felt a sort of pressure to win again - after all, you were the thing that had changed in the time between matches. 

Montague called a huddle. 

“Right. Malfoy, just focus on the Snitch. Don’t bother with what we’re doing. I don’t care if your girlfriend has just fallen off her broom - if you see the Snitch, it’s yours. We all know you’re a better Seeker than Chang anyway.”

Montague continued. “Pucey and (Y/L/N) - look for passes. Keep the Quaffle away from Roger Davies. And do not fumble the fucking thing. I will kill you. I will kill myself, for that matter, if I fumble it. Understand?”

You nodded.

“Right. Crabbe and Goyle, if any of my players get hit badly enough to not be able to come to practice next week, you’re doing extra hours. And Bletchley - just block the fucking shots. Alright, break.”

You broke the huddle. Draco came up and shoulder-checked you. 

“Nervous?” He asked.  
“Never,” you replied.

You gripped your broom for dear life as you made your way out onto the pitch, mounting your brooms and flying around the pitch in triangle formation. 

“Here’s Slytherin!” Lee Jordan shouted, and your half of the crowd roared, snake banners and green fireworks waving and exploding in a cacophony of noise. 

“Captain Graham Montague, Adrian Pucey, and (Y/N) (Y/L/N), Chasers! Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, Beaters! Miles Bletchley, Keeper! And Draco Malfoy, Seeker!”

The crowd roared. Ravenclaw was already on the pitch. You broke formation, everyone flying to their designated positions on the pitch. 

And just like that, the match began. 

You felt like a rocket launcher. The only Ravenclaw who was giving you trouble was Roger Davies, their captain. 

He whipped down the pitch, and you struggled to keep on his tail. When he got close to Bletchley on your end of the pitch, he tossed the Quaffle towards Jeremy Stretton. Quick as a bullet, you shot out and intercepted, hearing the crowd explode behind you as you shot down the pitch, going the other direction. 

As soon as you could make out their Keeper’s face, you whipped the ball toward Montague, who scored easily. 

“Nice one, (Y/L/N)!” He called, and you felt your face glow with pride. 

Randolph Burrow, the other chaser, fumbled the Quaffle, and Pucey was below to catch it. He threw it up to you quickly, and you dove a little to grab it, flying low to the ground so that it would be hard for the other players to tail you. 

Montague flew up next to you and you did a quick handoff, flying side by side so that the Ravenclaws couldn’t see who was holding the Quaffle. 

You split off at the last second, and he scored again, flying around the pitch for a victory lap. 

The next time you got the ball, you were determined that you would score yourself. You flew at their Keeper, and he flew out towards you, obviously trying to draw out a pass. 

“(Y/L/N)!” You heard Montague yelling from beside you, “do your move!”

You understood immediately. You made it seem as though you would pass to Montague, but at the last minute you rolled to the underside of your broom, hanging upside-down for a second before righting yourself and throwing the Quaffle through the now-unguarded hoops. 

Pucey flew by you, grinning. “We’re destroying them!”

It was true. Ravenclaw had only gotten three shots on Bletchley, and he had blocked two of them, leaving the score 10-70 in your favor. 

Roger Davies had the Quaffle again, and Pucey was tailing him. You saw Montague motion to you, and, following his lead, you flew up on one side of Davies while Montague took the other. Slowly, you both pressed in on him, so close you were almost touching. 

Cornered, he threw the Quaffle towards Stretton, but Pucey whipped out from behind him and intercepted it. 

Pucey and Montague flew the Quaffle into goal, and you covered for them, quickly scanning the pitch to make sure Crabbe and Goyle weren’t missing any bludgers coming your way. 

Instead, you saw Malfoy darting around in the air above you, then diving down swiftly, Cho on his tail but with no prayer of catching up to him. 

Slytherin was going crazy in the stands, and you turned back to see that Pucey had put it through the hoop again. _They need to replace their Keeper,_ you thought to yourself, then turned back just in time to see Draco fly a circle around Cho and grab the Snitch, pumping his arm in the air. 

Your face broke out in a grin, and you let out a whoop, which was drowned out in the insane amount of noise coming from the Slytherin stands. 

The team touched down, and Montague yelled above all the noise. 

“Fucking incredible, you all! Fucking perfect game! (Y/L/N), Pucey, you two were insane! Malfoy, legendary catch - Crabbe, Goyle, not a single rogue bludger!”

You looked over at Draco, who was grinning uncontrollably. 

Needless to say, the team was the heroes of the common room that night. The fire roared well into the night as all the seventh years brought out their stashes of firewhiskey. 

Sebastian grabbed you, pulling you up on his shoulders and walking you around the common room, drawing cheers from everyone. You laughed as he kept passing you up shots, ignoring the Theo-Blaise-Pansy corner of the room that was sitting in pointed silence.

Your eyes were really on Draco’s. He was leaning against the wall near the fire, having already enjoyed his fifteen minutes of fame, watching you with raised eyebrows and a soft smile as you were paraded around the common room. 

Finally, Sebastian let you down, and Draco was upon you in an instant. You hadn’t properly talked since the match, and it didn’t seem to matter to him that you were currently surrounded by the entire student population of Slytherin. 

“You were fucking incredible. First match, and you play like that. Unbelievable,” he whispered in a low voice.  
“You caught the Snitch,” you said, deflecting the attention back to him.  
“Good thing you weren’t part of the play when I saw it, otherwise I might have just fucked it off to watch you.”

“Montague would have killed you,” you said.  
“Let him try,” Draco said back, his face so close to yours.

And suddenly it didn’t matter that you were in the middle of the common room. You reached up towards him, and he obliged, bringing his lips down to yours. You felt them curve into a smile under yours. 

You broke apart to see that the side conversations going on a moment earlier had ceased, and instead everyone seemed to have their eyes on you. 

“Nothing to see here!” Sebastian said drunkenly, and you laughed.  
“Get a room, you two,” Tracey said, but she was grinning. 

Draco smoothed your hair out of your face. “Think we might have to,” he breathed, so quietly you were sure you were the only one who could hear it - but judging by the reactions from the crowd, you were not. 

He opened his mouth to say something else, but he was cut off by the sound of a voice you would be happy to never hear again. 

“Just wait until she fucks you off, Malfoy. It’s a matter of time,” you turned to see Theo, a bottle of firewhiskey in his hand. Pansy stood off to the side, smiling meanly. 

“Why don’t you fuck off, Nott,” Draco said boredly.  
“Can’t do if you two insist on making out in the middle of the common room.”  
“I recall you two used to do the same thing,” Draco said. 

You punched him lightly. You hated when people brought that up. 

“Yeah, we did. And look what’s happened now. She’s always, always, on to the next. I mean, who did she come to the Yule Ball with? Daley. And before that, it was Thomas. Then it was me. And she was a bit cozy with Diggory too. You must think you’re lucky to come next, but you should really be wondering who she’s gonna slag you off for.”

Sebastian cleared his throat. “Girls, I just want to make it clear that (Y/N) and I are strictly platonic,” he said into the silence. 

You snorted. “You’re embarrassing yourself, Theo.”

“Oh yeah? At least I haven’t been with five boys in the last year. And that’s only the ones we know about.”

Draco took a step forward, but you stopped him with a hand on his arm. 

“You’re pathetic. Do you wanna know the reason I dropped you? It wasn't because I stopped caring about you, it was because I never cared about you in the first place. I was _using_ you, you absolute dimwit,” you fired off.

Theodore opened his mouth and closed it, then opened it again. 

“I never fucking liked you. I liked Draco the whole time. I was using you, and it fucking worked.” You realized about halfway through your sentence that you were a bit more drunk than you had thought. It occurred to you that you were being a bit mean, but it was Theodore, and he was being a dick in the first place, so you really didn’t feel too bad.

“We were together for four months,” Theodore growled, “you can say whatever you want to stroke Malfoy’s ego, but we all know that’s not true.”

You sighed, pulling Draco back into you. His hair was still messy from the game. All you could really think about was kissing him again. 

“Let’s just go,” you said, grabbing his arm and dragging him toward the stairs up to your dorm. 

“Yeah, alright,” Theo called after you, “nothing to say to that, I see. Enjoy it while it lasts, Malfoy.”

You turned around at the foot of the stairs, looking back at him with disdain.

“Every time I was with you, I thought of him,” you said coldly, then pulled Draco up the rest of the stairs. 

As soon as you were out of sight of the rest of the common room, Draco’s hands were around your waist, then on your thighs, then he was lifting you up to carry you.

He slammed open the door to your room and it banged on its hinges as it hit the wall. It occurred to you that people in the common room could probably hear the noise. It occurred to you that you absolutely didn’t care. 

Draco deposited you on your bed, turned and closed the door, then was back on you in an instant. 

He made quick work of taking your clothes off, and sat back quickly to take off his own. 

Then he leaned into you, kissing you desperately, sucking hard on your bottom lip and moving just as fast down to your neck, right below your ear, nipping at your skin. 

You arched into him, arms twisted around his back, feeling his erection rubbing at your inner thigh. You cried out as he bit down hard, sucking the skin on your neck into his mouth and releasing it through his teeth. 

“Everyone will see that,” you murmured.  
“Good. I want them to.”

His mouth moved lower then, down to your breasts, sucking on your nipple while his hands snaked up and down your body, fingers ghosting over your torso and pressing into your skin. 

Your breath hitched, your whole body already humming with the tension. He looked up at you from your chest, pupils fiercely dilated, and you grabbed the nape of his neck, dragging him up to your mouth and whining as your body arched up into his again, feeling him hard between your thighs.

Then his hands were around your back, and he flipped you over in a practiced movement so that you were sitting on top of him, straddling him. You moved your hands down his chest, his stomach, further, until they were bracing you on each side of his hip. 

Then you moved your body down too, relishing in the way he pushed up towards you, desperate, as you moved your mouth closer and closer to his dick. You used your hands on his waist to keep him pinned to the bed as you took his tip in your mouth, swirling saliva around your tongue. 

His hands came up to your hair, anchoring his fingers as you moved your mouth lower and lower. 

“Don’t move,” you whispered, and he answered you with a low, desperate moan. 

You sucked up and down his dick, satisfied by the sounds he was letting out, the way his hands grabbed at your hair and your scalp. But this isn’t how you wanted it to end tonight. 

You crawled back over top him, his hands moving up and down your body dazedly. You leaned in to kiss him, stopping an inch away from his lips.

You meant to say something, but he didn’t let you get the chance, pulling you in aggressively to his lips, his tongue moving into your mouth. You scraped it between your teeth, and he chuckled darkly.

He grabbed your hands, putting them on his shoulders, and then his hands were on your waist, positioning your body just the way he liked it. 

“You know what I want,” he whispered into the shell of your ear. “Give me it.”

You lowered yourself onto his dick, slowly at first, but his hands on your waist pulled you up and pushed you down faster, forcing you to pick up the pace. 

You did, going faster and faster, rolling your hips into him, panting and moaning as he sucked at your neck, your breasts.

He leaned back onto the headboard then, ecstasy. His eyes feasted on your image, watching you as you moved. He brought a hand down to you, rubbing your clit, and it felt so good you could have screamed. 

The pace was tiring, your nails digging into his shoulders, trying as hard as you could to go faster. You could feel your hair sticking to your scalp, sweating with the effort it took. 

You squeezed around him, and his hands dug further into his waist. 

“Fuck,” you heard him say under his breath. 

Then all at once, he flipped you over so that you were beneath him. He braced himself with one hand on the headboard, the other hand still playing with your clit, fucking into you so hard and so fast that your vision blurred. 

You cried out, your moans mixing with his, and his mouth came down to suck on your nipples again. It was too much. You felt your body shuddering, stuttering, as you reached your high, and you dug your nails into his shoulder, moving your hands to the back of his neck, pushing his face into your chest as your body arched into him and then fell back on the mattress.

But he wasn't done yet, still chasing his own high. 

It was half pleasure, half pain. You felt heavy and tired, but he was still going, and your hands were still locked around his neck, your whole body shaking wildly as he kept his finger on your clit. You gasped and moaned every time he thrust into you, wanting him to stop, wanting him to keep going forever. 

Finally, he finished, and collapsed on you, both your bodies slick with sweat as your lips connected. You ducked your head into his neck as you both came down, panting, limbs wrapped around each other. He pulled out of you, rolling to the side, throwing an arm across your chest so that you could still feel him close to you. 

You realized that your eyes were watering, and your body protested, shuddering as you tried to move. You whined, and Draco rolled onto his side, enveloping you lazily in his arms, pulling you on top of him. With a hand on his chest and your head tucked into his shoulder, you let your drowsiness take over and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now back to the angst!


	30. Educational Decree no. 68

You got to breakfast late the next day, swinging into your spot after the food had already appeared on the tables.

Upon seeing you, Sebastian choked on his pumpkin juice. Tracey pounded him on the back. 

“Morning, (Y/N),” he said after he recovered. “Have a good night last night?”

Simon chuckled. Sadie grinned up at you, eyebrows raised.

You grinned back. “Yeah, how’d you guess?”  
“We just have functioning ears,” Sebastian said. 

“My head fucking hurts,” you groaned.   
“That will be the shots,” Simon observed, handing you a gross looking green drink, “this should help.”

You gulped it down, ignoring the bitter taste. As you put it back down on the table, you made eye contact with Theo and saw that he was fixing you with one of the angriest glares you had ever seen. 

You remembered him confronting you in the common room last night, and you remembered having said something mean back, but you didn’t remember exactly what.

“Theo’s looking pissed,” you observed, turning back to your friends. Tracey snorted.   
“Yeah, I’d be pissed too,” she said, “not to say that I didn’t enjoy the show.”  
“What’d I say?” You asked quietly. 

Sebastian and Simon shot each other a look and started laughing. 

“Well,” Tracey began, “basically just that you never liked him, you were just using him, you think he’s pathetic… oh, and that you were thinking of Malfoy every time you hooked up with him.”

Sebastian and Simon were still laughing. 

“Right,” you said, “so I just put it all out there, then?”

Simon slapped you on the back. 

You were on your way down to the dungeons for Potions when you heard a voice call out to you in the hall. You turned to see Harry making his way towards you. 

You stopped. “Yes?”  
“Listen, I need to talk to you,” he said. “Does Slytherin have the pitch for practice today?”

You nodded slowly. 

“Right, well… the thing is, Umbridge still hasn’t reinstated the Gryffindor Quidditch team.”  
“She hasn’t? She okayed us weeks ago.”  
“Because most of your teammates are in the Inquisitorial Squad,” Harry observed.

“I’m not. But I’ll talk to Draco, see what he can do.”

Harry scoffed. “Malfoy won’t do a thing. He’s probably enjoying this.”  
“He probably is,” you acknowledged, “but he’ll do it if I ask him. Besides, we need teams to play against.”

Harry nodded slowly. “Right. Well, thanks.”  
“Yeah. See you in DA.”

He nodded again. “See you.”

You turned and walked away quickly, not wanting to be late for Potions. 

You brought it up to Draco that night in the common room. You were sitting in one of the back corners, far away from everyone else, and most of the Slytherins knew not to bother you two. 

“You know, Gryffindor’s Quidditch team is still not allowed to play,” you started.

Draco chuckled. “Good thing. We’ll get more practice time.”

You rolled your eyes. “And then when it comes time to actually play matches?”  
“We can just play Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.”  
“Yeah, what a challenge.” You said sarcastically.

He turned to you. “And what do you want me to do about it?”  
“Talk to Umbridge.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, right. Not happening.”  
“Why not?”  
“Do I look like someone who begs on the behalf of others?”  
“You look like someone who begs on the behalf of me,” you suggested.

He chuckled. “No. Umbridge would just think I’m being weak, anyways.”  
“Who cares what Umbridge thinks?”  
“Well, my father, for starters. Most Slytherins. The Minister of Magic. I could go on.”

You felt a flicker of annoyance. 

“Well, if Gryffindor can’t play, I’m not playing.”  
“What?” He asked in disbelief.

“You heard me. If Gryffindor can’t play, I’m quitting the team. It’s not fair.”  
“And since when have you cared about fairness?”   
“Since right now.”

“Is this because you’re in Potter’s club now? You want to stand up for him and his friends?” Draco sneered. You hated that look on his face. 

“No, Draco, it’s because I hate Umbridge. And I want to be able to play against a team that’s actually good.”  
“I hate Umbridge too. You know that.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, it seems like you really hate her, wearing that badge around and enforcing all of her rules.”

You stood up, your chair scraping across the floor. He grabbed your wrists and stood too. 

“I thought you didn’t care about that. You shouldn’t.”  
“I thought I didn’t care either, Draco, but it’s Umbridge. She’s awful.”  
“Yeah, she’s a pain in the ass, but she’s no more than that. I don’t see why you’re so bent out of shape about it.”

“She’s lying about Cedric,” you heard yourself say, and saw it reflected in shock on Draco’s face. You hadn’t meant to say that - you hadn’t really thought of that that much before, really, but it occurred to you as the words came out of your mouth that you really meant them, that this was the root cause of your hatred for her. 

“I knew you believed Potter,” Draco growled.  
“And what do you believe?” You asked.  
“What the Ministry says. You need to stop going to his club.”

You felt anger flash across your face.

“I’ll do what I want. It’s not about what Harry says anyway.”  
“So he’s _Harry_ now?”  
“It’s not about him.”  
“Then what is it about?”

“Cedric. He _died,_ Draco. He was my friend and he died. And people are lying about it.”  
“Seems like he was more than a friend,” Draco growled. 

You shook off his hands from your wrists. 

“You’re being an asshole right now,” you said. 

He reached for your arm again, but you threw up your hand in front of his face. 

“No, don’t touch me. You’re maddening.”  
“I’m just trying to figure out how the Gryffindor Quidditch team has something to do with Diggory biting it,” he said. 

The way he treated Cedric’s death - so casually - made your blood boil. 

“It’s about Umbridge. And how you’re one of her fucking lackeys. I hate it.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but you moved in closer to him, cutting him off before he could speak. 

“And if you ever talk about Cedric like that again, we’re done.”

You turned and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see ya tomorrow  
> thanks for comments as always i love em


	31. Love Potion

It had been two weeks since your and Draco’s argument. You had thought about going up to him and apologizing, but every time doing so crossed your mind, you remembered the casual flair of his voice as he had talked about Cedric’s death. 

Anyways, it seemed like he was exiting the room every time you walked into it.

But tonight you couldn’t avoid each other. There was a huge party in the Slytherin dungeons, and pretty much every Slytherin above fourth year was crowded into the common room. 

Cups filled with firewhiskey dotted the tables and the floor, and someone had conjured an absolute feast of food on the center table. 

Draco was looking perfect, you thought, wishing he wasn't. The way he wore the Hogwarts robes made them seem as if they had been made just for him, but you liked him best when he was just wearing a sweater or a suit. Perfectly tailored. 

You watched him as he tossed back a drink, then turned to drop the cup unceremoniously on the nearest table. Asshole. You wished he was with you. _I’m just trying to figure out how the Gryffindor Quidditch team has something to do with Diggory biting it._ You crumpled up the cup in your hand. 

“Still pissed?” Tracey came up behind you, a sympathetic look on her face. 

You nodded. 

“I would be, too,” she reassured, putting a hand on your shoulder and replacing your crumpled cup with a full one. 

“What’s in it?” You asked.  
“Simon mixed firewhiskey and pumpkin juice. It’s quite good, actually.”

You took it and drained it. “I thought you were going to hang out with Michael tonight,” you said. 

Tracey laughed. “Yeah, that was the plan. But the amount of drama in this room right now is absolutely unmissable.”

You raised your eyebrows. 

“Well, you and Malfoy fighting but also staring at each other across the room when you think the other isn’t looking, for one. Secondly, Parkinson being all over Blaise Zabini…”

She gestured across the room, where Pansy was indeed wrapped around Blaise on one of the couches.

“Of course, Megan Bulstrode and Anna Giovanni skirting around each other like they haven’t been hooking up for two years now. Then there’s Daphne Greengrass trying to go after Sebastian even though he hasn’t given her the time of day since third year.”

You followed her hands as she gestured around the room, taking in the scene. 

“How have I not noticed any of this?” You wondered aloud.   
She chuckled. “Easy. Your eyes have been hooked on Malfoy since he walked in.”

You shook your head. “I wish he would just apologize to me. Is that so difficult?”  
“I’d imagine it is quite difficult for him,” Tracey said, “being a Malfoy and all.”

She patted you on the back, then, before disappearing back into the crowd, gave you a heads up. “Theo’s looking particularly murderous tonight. Don’t catch yourself alone with him.”

You nodded, turning around and walking towards the table that was piled with food. Most of the plates had been pretty much emptied, but a bunch of pink cookies at the end of the table caught your eye. You grabbed one, taking a bite. 

The sugar melted in your mouth, cinnamon and chocolate swirling around your taste buds and erasing the decidedly gross aftertaste of Simon’s pumpkin juice/firewhiskey medley. 

You reached back and had another one, then scanned around the party. 

Your eyes fell on Theo, and you felt your stomach flip. He was looking particularly murderous as he made eye contact with you, but you thought you saw his face soften a bit. 

He really was attractive, his dirty blond hair curling around his face. You took a couple steps toward him, and he raised his eyebrows. His green eyes shone in the light of the fire. Your stomach twisted again. 

You reached him. 

“Do you need something?” He said in a low voice. You never remembered his voice sounding like this before… it was so smooth, soothing. 

You reached out your hand and put it on his arm, feeling like electricity was crackling through the air. The way you used to feel with Draco, but Draco was a distant memory.

“What are you doing?” Theo asked, his hands hanging at his sides. Nice hands. Broad shoulders. 

You grabbed them and put them on your waist, feeling the heat seep off them. He smelled so perfect. You looped your hands around his neck. 

You felt his hands come away from your waist, pushing at you - pushing you away. But that couldn’t be right. You grabbed them again, putting them back on your waist, then moved in, trying to kiss him. 

Then you felt different arms grab your from behind, spinning you around aggressively. Draco. His eyes flashed with rage, his hands shaking as they gripped your waist so tightly that it hurt. 

“What the _hell_ are you doing,” he said, his voice quiet but so filled with anger that he could’ve been shouting at the top of his lungs. 

Whatever. You didn’t want to look at Draco. You wanted to look at Theo. You tried to squirm out of his grip, but he held you tighter. 

“Get off me, Draco. Where’s Theo?”

His hands stayed steady on your waist even as you clawed at him and tried to push him away from you. Finally, you grabbed his left hand and dug your nails into it, making him wince and pull away. 

Then you were stumbling away from him, back to Theo. Seeing his face filled you with calm and lust. You threw your arms around his neck again, but felt your shoulder jerk away. 

Draco grabbed your other shoulder too, then pinned your arms to your sides and walked you back into the wall. You could still see Theo over his shoulder, and you craned your neck to get a better view of him, struggling against Draco’s grip. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” Draco growled, pushing your back into the cold stone wall, “I mean, what the _fuck_ is wrong with you!”

You struggled more, tears pricking your eyes as you realized you wouldn’t be able to get out of his grip, you wouldn’t be able to get back to Theo. 

“I know you’re pissed off at me. I know you’re fucking pissed. But this is - you can’t do shit like this out of spite. Out of anything. It’s vile.”

You shook your shoulders violently, trying to get his hands away, mind barely even comprehending what he was saying. 

“I’m not going to forgive you for this, you know,” he said, voice so cold that you almost looked at him instead of trying to catch Theo’s eye above his shoulder. 

“I don’t care,” you said, feeling like you really might cry if you didn’t get near Theo now, “I don’t care, just get off of me.”

He pushed you against the wall again, hard, then took his hands off you. 

“Malfoy, grab her!” You heard Sadie shout from across the room, but you were already making your way to Theodore again, rubbing your wrist where Draco’s hands had dug into your skin. 

“She made her decision,” you heard him say.  
“Are you fucking idiotic?” Sadie returned, and out of the corner of your eye you saw Sebastian walk into your line of sight, blocking you from Theo. 

You tried to dodge him, but he looped his arms under your shoulders, lifting you up into the air. You started kicking and thrashing. 

“Shit,” you heard Sebastian say, struggling to keep you upright.  
“Let her go,” Draco said, “let her go. I told you, she made her decision.”

Sadie marched up behind you, holding the plate of cookies you had eaten earlier. 

“You must be dense, Malfoy. Clearly someone’s given her love potion. Sebastian, you and Tracey take her to the hospital wing to get an antidote.”

“No!” You shouted, kicking and thrashing as hard as you could, “no! Leave me here! I want to be with Theo, please, leave me here!”

But Sebastian ignored you, carrying you out into the hallway. You looked back inside, crying now, frantic, and the last thing you saw was Draco turning to Theodore with rage simmering in his eyes. 

You woke up in the hospital wing the next morning, and, after letting the events of last night wash over you, groaned in embarrassment. 

“Good morning,” Simon said from your right, and you rolled over to look at him, “feeling alright?”

It was always Simon coming to watch over you whenever you had a stint in the hospital wing. Come to think of it, you’d ended up here more times than you would’ve liked. 

“Feeling fucking terrible,” you responded, “I can’t believe everyone saw me trying to go after Theodore Nott.”

Simon shrugged, laughing. “Believe it. It was a delightful evening for the rest of us.”  
“So Theo really spiked those cookies with love potion?”

Simon nodded. “Pansy’s idea, apparently. They wanted to embarrass you in front of everyone.”

“Well, it worked. That might have been the most pathetic moment of my life.”

Simon grinned. “If it makes you feel any better, it was probably the most pathetic moment of Theo’s life, too.”

You sat up in bed. “Why, what happened?”  
“Your boyfriend happened.”

“Is he angry with me?” You wondered, resolving yourself to be even more pissed off at him if he was.

Simon chuckled. “Judging by the size of Theodore’s black eye, I would say I think not.”  
“He punched Theodore?”   
“A couple times. Blaise had to hold him back in the end. Like I said, it was a delightful evening.”  
“Is he in trouble?”

“He told Theodore that he would make his life a living hell if he told anyone, so… no. I think Nott is currently living in fear of another split lip.”

You smiled. Served him right, trying to dose you with love potions. 

“Well, I’m off,” Simon said, getting up.  
“You’re leaving me alone?”

Simon grinned. “Of course not.”  
“Simon, seriously, let me come with you. I’m fine.”

You were about to get up and follow him, but he was already opening up the door to leave. 

And then Draco was making his way through it, striding over to you with an unreadable expression on his face. You sat up again, not sure what to expect. 

“(Y/N),” he said, dropping into the seat next to you. You noticed his knuckles were bruised. “Theo got what was coming to him,” he said by way of greeting.  
“So I heard.”

There was a spot of silence then. Your happiness at seeing him was checked as you remembered that you were pissed off at him. He seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“About what I said… about Cedric,” he started, looking down at the floor, “I know you two were close, and I just - would rather you not have been.”  
“Nothing ever happened between us.”

He looked up meeting your eyes. “Yeah, alright.”

You turned away, staring at the ceiling. No apology - just a roundabout explanation of why. You guessed that was the best you were going to get, but all of a sudden it just seemed like it would never be enough. 

“But you still believe what the Ministry’s saying. About how he died.”

He looked pained, avoiding your eyes. Then, finally:

“I believe you. I think I do.” He said it so softly you barely heard him.

“You do?”

He looked up at you and winced, then looked back down as if he was preparing himself to say something. 

“When I was home. Over Christmas break - I thought I heard my parents… well, it doesn’t matter. But they were talking like… like he’s back. I don’t want them to be involved, so I would rather just...”

You smoothed your thumb over his hand softly. 

“Yeah. I understand.”  
He shook his head slowly. “No, you don’t.”

You sat in silence for a couple seconds, your thumb moving rhythmically over his palm. 

“But you try to,” he mused, almost as if he was talking to himself.

“Alright, let’s go,” you said after a while, “I’ve had enough of the hospital wing.”

You stood up from bed and into Draco’s arms. He hugged you tightly. Three days without inhaling his cologne seemed like far too long. 

“We have Divination homework due tomorrow,” he said quietly to you, and you broke apart from him. “I’ll let you copy mine.”

There was his apology. Always implied, never said. You would just have to learn to deal with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #theodoreisoverparty


	32. I Must Not Tell Lies

The practice dummy bobbed around the circle, students throwing spells at it as it moved from left to right - disarming it, freezing it, turning it pink. 

_“Impedimenta,”_ you said as it leaned your way, watching as its movements slowed. _“Stupefy.”_ It froze in place. 

“Ginny, take it,” Harry said from behind you.

 _“Reducto!”_ She shouted, and it disintegrated into a million little pieces. She smirked. 

You glanced at Dean, who was looking at her with his mouth slightly open. _They’re a good match,_ you thought. The rest of the hall broke out in applause, and you and Sadie joined in, sharing a look. You had been clapping for Gryffindors a little too often lately. 

The meeting ended soon thereafter, and you waved a quick goodbye to Sadie - you always left through different exits to reduce the chances of getting caught.

“See you soon,” you said, and she rolled her eyes.  
“I won’t wait on you,” she replied, “just in case Malfoy’s on patrol tonight.”

You grinned. He was. You left through the back exit, making your way through the halls quickly. Draco usually planted himself near the entrance to the Slytherin dungeons, so it was easy to find him on these nights. You would tell him you were just out wandering the halls, he would make a joke about the Inquisitorial Squad, and then you would go wandering around the kitchens or the courtyards or the fourth floor.

So when you turned the corner and saw a figure leaning up against the wall, you almost called out to him. Only, wait - no, this person was much shorter than Draco. Narrow shoulders. 

And - it wasn't a guy at all, it was a girl, and as she emerged from the shadows you felt like you were filling up with dread. Short brown hair, smug expression - a predator finally closing in on an elusive piece of prey. Pansy Parkinson. 

“Well, fancy seeing you in the halls this time of night,” she drawled.

Your mind reeled, trying to think of an excuse. When it was Draco, you just said the first thing that came to mind, knowing he wouldn’t care anyway. But this was different. You felt your heart thundering. 

“I was in the bathroom,” you breathed out.  
“There’s bathrooms in our dormitories - or were you never given the tour?”  
“No, I just don’t like them,” you said, trying to lean into your recycled excuse. 

“It seems like you’ve forgotten the tour and the rules, because the only students allowed out of bed past curfew are Prefects and Inquisitorial Squad members. I happen to hold both titles - you, however, happen to hold neither.”

“Consider me warned,” you returned.  
“Oh, you’re more than warned. I’m taking you to Umbridge.”

“No, you aren’t,” a new voice said, and you looked down the hallway to see Draco’s figure, face half obscured by shadows.

Pansy whirled around. For a second, you thought that you should just run away, but that would be as good as admitting guilt. You and Pansy both regarded Draco as he emerged more fully from the shadows, his wand hand outstretched. 

Pansy growled. “I should’ve guessed. You two never stray that far from each other, do you?”

Draco kept his expression neutral, impersonal, as he made his way down the corridor.

“Let her go back to her room. It won’t happen again,” he said to Pansy.   
“It’s been happening all year,” Pansy replied contemptuously. “Or did you think nobody else had noticed?”

Draco’s eyes fell on you, his expression unreadable. 

“Come on. Either you let me take her to Umbridge or I tell Umbridge exactly why you didn’t.”

Draco looked back at Pansy quickly, eyes flashing. “You wouldn’t.”  
“I’ve been waiting for a reason to.”

Draco paused for a second, then shrugged.

“Fine. Take her.”

Pansy turned back to you, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. You shot an angry look at Draco. Really, he wasn't going to try even a little bit harder to get you out of trouble? You resolved to yell at him later. 

Pansy grabbed your shoulder aggressively, nails digging into your sweater. She started walking, and you begrudgingly followed. What could you do - try to escape? The entire Inquisitorial Squad would be on you in minutes. You had heard whispers of how terrible Umbridge’s detentions were, but they had always seemed like distant prophecies. Now they loomed in the darkness of the hall in front of you. 

Draco took a couple steps forward too, his footsteps echoing in the air. Pansy turned around upon hearing them. 

“What are you doing?” She hissed.

Draco was silent for a second, as if he didn’t know himself. Then his posture stiffened with resolve. 

“I’m coming with you.”  
“I found her. You watch the corridor - there might be more of them coming from Potter’s little horde.”

Draco cut the remaining distance between you, placing his hand on your other shoulder. It wasn't exactly the warmest gesture, but his firm grip grounded you a little bit and made you feel less unsure. 

“I’m coming with you or we aren’t going at all, Pansy. Now be quiet and move.”

Pansy’s face morphed into a stormy expression, but she turned forward and started walking again, jerking you along uncomfortably. You wondered why Pansy followed Draco’s orders like that - perhaps because he was Umbridge’s favorite student, the de-facto leader of the Inquisitorial Squad. 

Perhaps because, no matter how much he mistreated and abused them, his little group of lackeys never wanted to piss him off. 

Perhaps - and you assumed that this was her true motive - she believed that she and Draco were still meant to be, that you were just an unfortunate phase that he had to pass through. 

The thought made your blood boil. 

By the time you got to Umbridge’s office, the shoulder in Pansy’s grip was aching, making the shoulder that Draco was holding seem positively rosy in comparison. Pansy raised her free hand and knocked on the door, taking a step back after she did so. 

After a few seconds of silence, the door swung open, revealing Umbridge in her trademark pink suit with the matching hat. The pink seemed to have spread from her outfit to her office like an infectious disease. Decorative plates hung on the walls, where enchanted paintings of cats meowed and licked their paws. It almost made you question your pro-cat stance. 

The scene would’ve been laughable if Umbridge’s expression wasn't so ominous.

“Found her wandering around the hallways near the Slytherin dungeons,” Pansy snarled, “she said she was going to the bathroom, but if you ask me, she was coming back from Potter’s club.”

“Ms. (Y/L/N)...” she said, taking a step back and gesturing for Pansy and Draco to escort you into her room. “I do recall seeing you and Potter conversing in the hallways the other day.”

You felt Draco tense beside you, his fingers tightening slightly on your shoulder.

“We were talking about Quidditch, professor,” you said, and then - you really couldn’t help it - “and your blatant favoritism for the Slytherin team. Surprised you didn’t go ahead and burn Gryffindor’s brooms.”

You heard Draco sigh under his breath beside you. You could picture his expression - probably exasperation. 

Umbridge chuckled girlishly, but it somehow resonated with more sinister undertones. 

“As a suspected member of Dumbledore’s underground operation, I regret to tell you that I think I must hold you for questioning.” Her expression read more like unbridled joy and anticipation than it did regret. You suddenly felt a stab of fear course through you. This woman was cruel - surely she wouldn’t hold back if she was to question you. 

“You can take a seat,” she said to you, the predatory smile spreading across her face as she motioned to a chair standing off the side of her desk. Pansy and Draco released your shoulders. 

You didn’t miss Pansy’s nails burrowing into your skin, but the loss of Draco’s reassuring hand on your shoulder only served to feed your apprehension. 

“Malfoy and Parkinson, you two are free to go. Rest assured, you’ll be properly rewarded for bringing her to me… especially if she talks.”

Something about the atmosphere was pumping real fear through your veins. The overwhelming pinkness, the subtle movements of the cats on the plates, the smell that was so sweet it was almost rotten. The way Umbridge’s face contorted as she stared at you, the way her voice had lingered on the word ‘talks,’ as if forcing your secrets out of you was what she had been waiting to do all year - all her life. 

“Are you sure we couldn’t stay and watch, professor?” Pansy asked. Sadistic, that one. But you felt a flicker of hope at her words - maybe Umbridge would let Draco stay. 

“Oh, no, Ms. Parkinson,” Umbridge chuckled politely, “I don’t think my methods are suited for your young eyes.”

Fear spiked through you again. _Methods?_ She made it sound as if she would be torturing you. 

“Pity,” Pansy pouted, then cracked open the door and strolled out nonchalantly. Draco turned to follow her, and you felt an overwhelming need to stop him, to keep him with you. 

“Draco, please don’t leave,” you breathed out before you could think better of it, and he froze. Pansy laughed meanly, turning around to look at Umbridge in anticipation. 

Umbridge turned, her face melting into a cool smile, regarding him. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them quickly, a blank expression on his face. You felt your heart pounding in your chest. 

“Don’t leave her, Draco!” Pansy said in a mocking voice, making puppy eyes at him. Draco ignored her, turning to make apprehensive eye contact with Umbridge instead. You wished he would look at you, see how much you wanted him to stay. How much you wanted to leave. 

“Mr. Malfoy?” Umbridge asked, a question that Draco clearly didn’t know how to answer. She continued. “I hope there’s no reason for me to suspect that you have any connection to a suspected member of Dumbledore’s club…” She trailed off, as if daring him to defy her. 

“Why don’t you tell her, Draco?” Pansy drawled.

Draco’s eyes flashed. Outwardly, he looked collected, but you could see that flicker of something else that you had gotten so adept at finding. 

“Tell me? Is there something to tell?” Umbridge’s voice dripped with politeness, but her tone suggested that there was a right answer and that the other answer was horribly, horribly wrong.

“No, I assure you there isn’t,” Draco said, keeping his tone even. 

Then he swept out of the room, Pansy hot on his heels, the door swinging shut behind them. Trapping you in the office. 

The stale air swirled around you, smelling of sweet sickness. The cats leered at you from the walls. Umbridge stalked closer, opening a desk drawer and pulling out a piece of parchment and a red quill. 

You were almost astounded - she was going to have you write lines? It was tedious and annoying, but you had been expecting some form of medieval torture. 

She laid it out in front of you. 

“Now, are you a part of Potter’s club?” She asked. 

You shook your head. “I didn’t even know he had a club,” you replied easily. It was a practiced lie, and it rolled off your tongue convincingly. 

“That’s a lie,” Umbridge observed. “And one musn’t tell lies. I’ll ask you a different question. Where does Potter’s club meet?”

“I don’t know, Professor. I’m not in any club with Potter.”

She slid the paper and the quill toward you. 

“It seems that you need to learn a lesson. Why don’t you start by writing _‘I must not tell lies.’_ We’ll start with fifty lines… then see if you feel like telling the truth.”

So this was her plan? Boring you to death? You yawned absentmindedly as you pulled the bit of parchment toward you. It might work, too. You were tired. You reached for the quill, then realized that she had forgotten to give you ink. 

“Professor, I need ink.”

She giggled. “The quill is enchanted, Ms. (Y/L/N).”

You shrugged, picking it up. Maybe it was self-dispensing - you had seen a couple of those in Flourish and Blotts last year. 

You began scratching it across the parchment. The words showed up in bright red ink. Curious shade. The back of your hand stung a little bit. You shook it slightly, then went to write another line. 

The slight stinging turned into an itch halfway through the second line, then got worse as you started the third line. You looked at your hand curiously - then you saw it. 

Scratched in your skin - not quite deep enough to break it yet. _I must not tell lies._ Your heart started hammering. 

“Is something wrong?” Umbridge asked from beside you. 

You breathed in slowly. “No.”

Your skin finally broke around line twenty, and by the time you reached the last line, little drops of blood were trickling down your hand, dotting the paper. You slid it over to Umbridge, trying to avoid eye contact.

“Well, hopefully that loosened your tongue, hmm?”

You didn’t respond. Uneasiness swept through you. Your hand stung. You felt tears pooling in your eyes, and you focused all your energy on fighting them off. Umbridge would not see you cry. 

“I’ll ask you again,” she started, as you stared at the inscription on your hand, “where does Potter’s club meet?”

You set your mouth in a line. There was really no way out of this situation. You would never tell Umbridge anything about DA. You actually enjoyed the club and had made some tentative friends in other houses - besides, if you did tell, you’d only be proving everyone who said you shouldn’t be allowed to join right. 

Even if you did want to get Potter and the rest of the Gryffindors in trouble, helping Umbridge was not worth it. 

But the alternative - the only alternative, it seemed - was to carve her lines into the back of your hand. You looked down, heart hammering heavily as the silence permeated the room. 

Umbridge rustled around in her desk, and you looked up warily. Her perfect posture and polite expression only served to make the situation more ominous. She seemed to take a sort of pride in what she was doing as she took a crisp new piece of parchment from her drawer and slid it across the desk to you. 

She cocked her head, making a show of sizing you up. Her hands were folded in her lap, perfectly ladylike. One of the cats on the wall purred.

“Nothing to say?” She asked. 

You were silent. A drop of blood fell from your hand and hit the floor. Umbridge’s smile widened.

“Fifty more lines, then,” she smiled. 

You wondered if this is what she wanted - if she hoped that you would refuse to confess so that she could continue to torture you. You steeled yourself, reaching for the quill.

_I must not tell lies._

The blood from the last batch of lines hadn’t even begun to clot yet. You felt like you were ripping a hole in your skin.

_I must not tell lies.  
I must not tell lies.  
I must not tell lies._

It had gone from stinging to burning.

_I must not tell lies.  
I must not tell lies._

By the time you reached the fifteenth line, blood was freely flowing down the back of your hand. It was so red - bright red. It almost looked fake.

_I must not tell lies._

Your hand shook around the quill, hand pulsing with pain as you kept writing. You tuned out the rest of the room, trying to ignore the smell, the pink, the cats, Umbridge at her desk. All you could focus on was the pain in your hand and the words that you had to get onto the paper. 

You felt that telltale sting in the corners of your eyes that warned of tears. You dug your nails into the palm of your free hand - something you often did to distract yourself from crying - but the pain in your hand was too great. A tear pooled in your eyes, dripped down your cheek and fell onto the paper. Smudging a line. 

48\. 49. 50. 

You all but threw down the quill, pulling your hand into your lap and pressing down on the wound, trying to stop the blood flow, trying to somehow stop it from hurting as much as it did. 

Umbridge turned nonchalantly towards you. 

“Where does Potter’s club meet?”

You clenched your jaw. Umbridge chuckled, pulling out another blank piece of parchment. Your vision swam.

“Another 50, then. Really, dear, it would be so much easier just to tell me,” she giggled, sliding the parchment toward you. Your heart thundered in your chest. 

No. You wouldn’t do it. You wouldn’t pick it up. You pressed your palm into the wound, hoping it would tamp down the pain. 

Umbridge regarded you. 

“I suggest you start writing your lines, dear. You know, I have other… methods. Ones that aren’t voluntary.”

Just get it over with, your brain screamed, but would she even let you leave? Would she keep you in here, carving out your hand, until the end of term?

You moved your hand to the quill. _I must not tell lies._

You didn’t even try to stop yourself from crying.

_I must not tell lies.  
I must not tell lies._

The pain ripped through you. You felt dizzy, like your blood was rushing to your head instead of pouring out of your hand. 

Then you were on the ground. Your eyes shot open, feeling a dull ache in the back of your head. The chair you had been sitting in was on the ground. The pain in your hand rushed back all at once. 

Umbridge stood over you. 

“Feeling faint?” She asked.

You stood up, taking a step back from her. She regarded your parchment, where you had successfully written six lines. 

“Very well,” she said, “that’s enough for tonight.”

Her eyes flickered to the door. You wondered why she didn’t just make you write more - perhaps she had gotten carried away and didn’t realize exactly how much pain you were in until you passed out. Perhaps she was afraid that you would tell Dumbledore - he did still have some power over her, anyway. 

You didn’t question it, running towards the door as fast as you could and out into the hallway. You made your way back down to the dungeons, lightheaded. Your whole right arm felt like it was throbbing to the beat of your heart. 

You reached the right stretch of wall, breathing out this week’s password - “anilius.”

The wall obliged, shifting to reveal the short passage down to the common room. You walked in quickly, hoping that nobody was awake inside. You had no idea how late it was, but Sadie said she had accidentally walked in on two sixth years hooking up after a DA meeting last term. 

You entered the common room to find that it was, as far as you could tell, empty. It was raining - you could hear the drops falling into the lake outside the windows. The fire was dead. You breathed a sigh of relief. A drop of blood fell from your hand and hit the floor. 

You turned, skirting the perimeter of the room, when you heard footsteps coming from the boys dormitories. You started moving faster, looking over your shoulder, when he emerged from their passageway. 

His hair was messy. He was wearing silk green pajama bottoms, no shirt. He held his wand out in front of him, Lumos lighting his way. 

Draco.

He lowered his wand so it wouldn’t shine in your eyes. You weren’t sure what to do. You remembered that you were supposed to be mad at him for taking you to Umbridge and leaving you, but that felt like a distant memory. 

What felt present was the fact that your hand felt like it was about to fall off, and, though you would hate to admit it to anyone, you were scared.

A little sob escaped your chest, and in no time he was across the room. He lowered his wand to his side, light shining onto the cold floor as he wrapped you in his arms and held you to his chest. You kept your hands at your sides, left hand pressing down on the wound on your right. 

He stepped back from you, confused on why you weren’t hugging him back. He shined his light up just in time for another drop of blood to escape your hand and join the tiny puddle that was forming on the floor. 

“What’s that?” He asked. 

You didn’t want to explain. You just held your hand out, and he caught it in his, reading the inscription to himself.

“I must not tell lies?” He murmured, looking up at you. 

You nodded, fresh tears running from your eyes. 

He looked like he had no idea what to do. He didn’t, of course. He had never been able to comfort you, not really. He looked from your hand back up to you a couple times, then dropped it. 

“Come - you come with me,” he said, turning and walking back towards the boys dorm’s hallway. You followed warily. 

He opened the door to his room - the same room he had had in third year, you remembered. Draco must have been in your room a hundred times, but you had never come in here. Silk hangings dotted the walls. His blankets were stitched from deep green and bright silver strings, glinting as the moonlight hit the lake. 

“You can sit,” he murmured, so you did. You cupped your hand around the wound, willing the blood to clot soon so that you wouldn’t drip any blood onto his floor. 

He looked panicked, standing over you. You didn’t know how to tell him that all you wanted was for him to just be beside you, to put his arm around you, to listen to you and just hold you for a little while. 

“Wait here,” he finally breathed, and swept out of the room. 

Sitting there, in your boyfriend’s room that you had never seen before, pain searing through your hand - pain caused by a woman he had brought you to, whether he really wanted to or not - you felt more lonely than you would’ve had you just gone to your room and slept.

You heard someone banging on another door, and hushed voices speaking. You recognized Draco’s voice, but you weren’t sure who the other one belonged to. 

You lay back, careful to keep your hand over the edge of the bed so that you wouldn’t get any blood on his sheets. 

All at once, the door banged open again, and you sat up to see Draco reenter. Followed by Blaise Zabini. 

Draco stood aside, glancing from you to Blaise. You looked warily up at Zabini - wasn't he friends with Pansy? - before turning your gaze back on Draco, trying to ask what was going on. His brows furrowed as he looked back at you. 

Blaise approached you, holding out his hand expectantly. You looked at Draco with questioning eyes. 

“Show him,” Draco said. 

You held up your hand. Blaise’s eyes widened, and he turned to face Draco. They seemed to be having a silent exchange. Then he turned back to you, pulling out his wand. 

You snatched your hand out of his grip, standing up. 

“He can fix it, (Y/N),” Draco said, taking a step toward you. “He’s good at healing spells.”

You sat back down on the bed warily. Blaise touched his wand to the back of your hand. It hurt. 

_“Vulnera Sanentur,”_ Blaise enunciated. You had never heard that spell before, but watched as the red gashes on your hand slowly scabbed over, then began to fade into pink scars. 

He stepped back. Draco approached you, sitting down next to you but not touching you. You wanted to lean into him, but he was looking up at Blaise, ignoring your eyes on his. 

“If you mention this to anyone, Zabini, you’re dead,” he muttered.  
“Noted,” Zabini sneered, turning and leaving the room.

“Thank you,” you said just before he left. He turned, giving you a curt nod, then swept out of the doorway. 

“Does it hurt?” Draco asked. 

You nodded. His eyes flicked all around the room, refusing to land on yours. Your hand still stung, but the pain had already begun fading. 

You wanted him close to you. You had wanted him close to you all night - even that hand on your shoulder had been soothing as you made your way up to Umbridge’s office. 

You thought of the smell, the sounds of the decorative cats preening and purring. The way Umbridge had sat there, perfect posture, wolfish smile taking over her face. You had felt so alone in the face of it - there was no good choice, nobody there to help you. 

And now, afterwards, the leftover fear and anxiety mingling with the pain in your hand, all you wanted was for him to comfort you, to reach out towards you. You remembered how it had been last year after Cedric died, how his hands had wrapped around you and brushed lightly over your back in his clumsy attempt to make you feel better. 

Even that was better than nothing. Finally, he met your eyes.

“So, I guess you should go back to your room now?” He asked, voice sounding wary. 

You felt tears spill from your eyes. Perhaps if this was a different night, you would’ve left, annoyed. But tonight you didn’t care about your pride, about seeming like you didn’t need him beside you. You shook your head. 

“No, I don’t want to leave.”

Draco’s eyes widened slightly, his brows stitching together like he was trying to solve a puzzle. 

“I thought you were mad at me,” he said softly, “because I left.”

You were, really. Or you knew you would be tomorrow. But not now. You reached out towards him. He glanced down at your hand then looked up at you, searching eyes. 

“I want to stay here,” you said quietly, and your hand landed in his. He pulled it to you. You felt a tear drip from your eyes down your cheeks. He had seen you cry too many times, but you felt yourself not caring. 

You tucked your head into his shoulder. His hands were unsure, but they wrapped around your back anyways, pulling you into him. It was rare, him being like this with you. So gentle, intimate. You wrapped your arms loosely around his back, breathing in his smell. His bare skin was soft and warm.

He smoothed his hands over your hair as you lay down. Your arms wrapped around his body, clinging tighter to him, one hand reaching up to curl around the nape of his neck. You lay your cheek on his chest, hearing his heartbeat steady and quiet in his chest. 

The rain beat down on the lake outside, white noise in your ears. His arms lay across your back, linked just below your shoulder blades. You breathed him in, your tears slowly subsiding as his chest rose and fell softly. 

You were drowsy now, the burning in the back of your hand having turned into a dull ache. As you drifted off, in that state halfway between awake and asleep, you thought you heard him say something.

“What?” You asked.  
“I said I’m sorry,” he breathed out. 

You tightened your hold on his body, and did the same, pulling you even closer to him. His heartbeat and the rain echoed peacefully in your ears. You weren’t sure whether or not you were dreaming now, whether or not he had actually spoken. 

But it was enough just to feel close to him as you drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for comments/kudos :) i love em


	33. Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some of y'all bout to be real mad at y/n. but it must be said.

The morning light was harsh. You were hot - sweating. Sleeping in your sweater was never a good idea, especially because the weather had been getting warmer lately. 

You felt him against you. His chest was warm, soft - your hand curled into his hair. Your hand hurt. Ached. 

It came back to you at once. 

You stirred immediately, untangling yourself from Draco and rolling over. You looked back at him to see that he was already awake. He sat up, making no moves to get closer to you. For a second, you panicked, thinking you might have missed the beginning of Charms - but no, it was Sunday. No classes. 

You sat up too, still looking at him, struggling to read the expression on his face. 

You remembered how badly you had needed him to comfort you last night, how Blaise had come in to heal your hand, how he had relaxed against you as the rain put you to sleep. 

But now, in the light of day, as the sunlight sparkled against the surface of the lake right above his window, the anger crept back in. 

He had led you to Umbridge - sure, he had tried to stop Pansy, but he had given in as soon as she threatened to tell Umbridge that you were together. You had asked him to stay, but he left. And he had assured Umbridge that he had no connections to you before doing so. 

You were willing to let that go last night. You just needed someone, and there he was, and he had been trying - you knew he had been trying, even if he didn’t really know how to help you. 

But now it was at the forefront of your mind as you stared at him. 

“Is your hand better?” He asked. No ‘good morning’ - but Draco had never been one for pleasantries. 

“It still hurts,” you answered honestly, and his brows furrowed at your tone.   
“Do you need Blaise to -”  
“No, I don’t need Blaise to do anything,” you cut him off. 

He ran his hand through his hair, watching you carefully. 

“You’re angry with me,” he observed.   
“Yeah,” you responded.   
“You weren’t last night.” He wasn't trying to mock you, just stating a fact.

You sighed. “Yeah, well. Last night was…”

“Listen, (Y/N), I had no idea what would happen. I would never have taken you to her if I had.”

“How many people have you taken up to her?”

Draco shook his head slightly, his expression confused. You pulled your hair away from your face, uncomfortably hot in your sweater, still under his blankets.

“I don’t keep track,” Draco said, as if the question was pointless.  
“Five? Ten?” You pressed on.   
“More than that. Why?”

You bristled. “More than that. And you had no idea - you had no idea at all what she does to people?”  
“Of course I didn’t. You think I would’ve left you there if I knew she was going to cut you up?”  
“You seemed pretty eager to leave.”

He sighed. “I wasn't.”

You got out of his bed then, bare feet hitting the cold floor. You looked around, but you didn’t see your shoes anywhere. You didn’t even remember taking them off. You squeezed your eyes shut, suddenly feeling very trapped in his room. 

“You didn’t hesitate to assure Umbridge that there was nothing going on between us.”  
“You know exactly why I did that.”

You exhaled. Of course you did. It always came back to the same things with him. Couldn’t he see that that was what really pissed you off? That everything else was a symptom of the larger problem between you?

“Let me guess,” you fired at him, “your father?”

He slipped out of his bed too, walking around it slowly as he spoke. 

“My father. My family. You have no idea what it would be like for me if they found out.”  
“Found out what - that you defied Umbridge, or that you’re with me?”

He stood in front of you, not even bothering to look sorry. The Draco from last night, the one who had held you and whispered an apology to you suddenly seemed very distant. Perhaps he was a dream after all. 

“Both,” he said. 

You knew his family wouldn’t like you - you had talked about it. It had been the main reason that you had kept your relationship a secret for months. 

You were pureblood yourself - your family had been in the Sacred 28. But a lot had changed since the 1930s, and some of your family members - including your mother’s brother - had married muggles. Thus, as Malfoy had relished in reminding you in first year, you were really no better than the Weasleys. 

It was an ugly sentiment - you loved your Aunt Nina - but, as far as the Malfoys ideology went, a true one. 

Malfoy had been staunchly prejudiced against Muggles first and second year - you still remembered the singsong of his voice as he proclaimed “you’ll be next, mudbloods!” after the Chamber of Secrets had been opened. 

But he had cooled off in recent years, in part because of you, in part because he knew it to be true that muggle-borns could be smart - Hermione Granger was, to his neverending annoyance, better than him at everything except Potions.

He still had veins of hatred in him. It was a process. A hard one. Especially when you had to have conversations like this one. 

You took a deep breath. 

“Your father wouldn’t like me, I know. But you used to not like me, either.”  
“I always liked you. You know that.” It could’ve been a nice sentiment if his tone wasn't so detached.  
“You called me a blood traitor first year.”  
“Yeah, well. I called a lot of people a lot of things first year.”

You sighed, eyes dropping to the floor as you scanned the room again. 

“What are we doing all of this for, then?” You said. This was the heart of it, the real reason you were angry that he left. 

You had thought about it before - where this was headed - but you had never voiced your concerns, afraid to break the tentative calm between you. Now that the calm had already been broken, you allowed your thoughts to roam freely. 

“What are you talking about?” Draco said.   
“I’m just saying, I - I don’t get where this is going. I mean, honestly, Draco, look at us. We can’t go a week without arguing over something -”  
“That’s not true,” he cut in. 

“Yes, it is. Just last month you thought I was into Theo again. And before that, you said all that shit about Cedric. And before _that,_ it was you insisting that we keep everything secret. That’s only this term, Draco, and I didn’t even mention your inability to apologize and your absolute -”

You raised your arm then, gesturing wildly, and he flinched. You stopped talking. He looked down quickly. 

“You flinched,” you observed stupidly. He didn’t react, studying the floor. “Did you think I was going to hit you?”  
“No.”

You took a step closer to him. He looked up at you, his eyes wary. 

“Did you?” You asked again, softly. “I’m not Pansy, Draco.”  
“I know.”  
“I would never - I mean, I would _never…”_ you trailed off.   
“I know,” he repeated.

The back of your still hand ached dully. It was hard being mad at him when there was such a clear reason why he was the way he was. Everything came back to his father with him, whether he liked it or not. 

“You see why I’m mad at you, though.” You said softly. 

He nodded. “I left you there, and I need to lie to protect myself.”  
“You never _need_ to lie,” you said, a flicker of annoyance stirring in your chest.

He looked at you sadly. “You’re brave. I’m not. It’s not a choice for me.”

You remembered how you had felt last night, trying desperately to think of something to do. Knowing that if you told Umbridge the truth, half the school would hate you. Knowing that if you lied, you would basically be opting in to torture. There was no choice.

“Alright,” you sighed, resolving to put this one behind you. 

You wondered how many times you could put these things behind you, but you pushed that thought to the back of your mind.

He looked at you with a pleading expression, like he was begging you to do something. Finally, he steeled himself. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. So simple. 

But you felt like you could’ve burst open. You pulled him into you, kissing him deeply. It was a small thing, really - smaller than small. But for him, it was gigantic. To admit that he was wrong, to see the right of it, and to tell you so. And all in the light of day, when he knew that you were wide awake, when he knew that you would hear him. 

He kissed you back. All your wandering doubts flew out of the window, dissipating into the lake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> QUESTION: there’s going to be some Patronus talk in the next couple chapters, and I’m wondering whether you all would prefer me giving you a Patronus based on the character I’ve written for you or whether you would rather have me write something like (your patronus) whenever I mention it the same way I do (y/n). It would be easier for me to be able to describe the Patronus but maybe that would break your immersion? Let me know!


	34. Expecto Patronum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok like 99% of y'all said you wanted me to give you a patronus so that's what I did! I hope you like it :)

“Make it a powerful memory. The happiest you can remember. Allow it to fill you up.” Harry spoke as he made his way through the Room of Requirement. 

You had been waiting all year for this lesson - the Patronus charm had been a favorite of yours ever since you were a kid. Your mother’s patronus - a snowy owl, and your father’s patronus, a fox, had lit up the night of your childhood. They would send them parading through the house at night, assuaging your fears of the dark. 

Shouts of _“Expecto Patronum!”_ lit up the room as Harry walked around correcting people’s form. 

You saw one of the Weasley twins’ wands let out a sort of blue mist - a shield form. You had tried casting the Patronus before, and you had just about managed the shield yourself. The corporeal form was, quite literally, another beast. 

You watched as Ginny cast, gasping to yourself as her Patronus took shape, flowing into the air. A horse. 

_“Expecto Patronum!”_ You said, and your wand obliged, sending out streaks of blue that coursed through the air. 

“Close, (Y/N)!” You heard Harry shout, and you grinned to yourself. 

All at once, you heard a shout of excitement from next to you. You turned and saw Sadie, a wolf prowling around in the air around her. 

“Perfect for you,” you said, admiring its graceful form. She stared at it in wonder. 

“Fantastic, Sadie!” Harry shouted, then turned to congratulate Hermione as an otter jumped out of her wand. 

You tried again, concentrating on the memory you had chosen - the day you got your Hogwarts letter. You had paraded it around the kitchen, posing for an endless amount of moving pictures. 

Ron was the next to get it. His Patronus bounded out of his wand, running about the room as if it were trying to chase the others’ Patronuses. Some sort of dog - very Ron. It was paying particular attention to Hermione’s otter. You grinned. 

Turning away from the commotion of the room, you steeled yourself. You loved Ron, really, but if he could get this charm, _surely_ you could. 

You concentrated on your memory - your Hogwarts letter - but at the last moment you thought of how you had felt the first time you had stepped onto Platform 9 ¾ instead. Seeing the Hogwarts Express spouting smoke, the rest of the first years looking around warily, the bustling families - owls hooting, cats meowing - the promise of sweets from the trolley. 

_“Expecto Patronum!”_ You said, and channeled all of the joy and anticipation you felt that day into your wand. You felt a rush, and you knew that it would work. You opened your eyes, watching the mist pour from your wand, whirling through the air until a form emerged from the fog. 

It was a leopard. It prowled around in the air around you, head held high, then turned to look at you, its sleek eyes unblinking. It bared its teeth, but it seemed like a symbol of acceptance rather than anger. 

Sadie turned, grinning at you. “It’s gorgeous.”

Harry congratulated you with a yell, and you stared up at it as it stalked around the room, graceful but fierce, muscles rippling. It came back to you after a while, leaving little wisps of blue in its wake. It sat down, regarding you, its tail flicking back and forth. 

You gazed up at it, entranced, and it inclined its head toward yours, lighting your face up. You felt like you were the one glowing. 

You took a different route back to the dungeons, obsessively checking down every corridor to make sure that you didn’t have another run in with the Inquisitorial Squad, but, amazingly, you made it to the common room. 

You waited up for Sadie, and she entered five minutes after you. You walked up the stairs together, chatting about how you couldn’t wait to completely upstage Sebastian, Simon, and Tracey with your Patronuses. 

“Simon will be beside himself,” you mused.   
“He might cry,” Sadie agreed. 

You parted ways, hugging her goodbye and sweeping into your room, changing into your pajamas and tying your hair up messily. You burrowed under your blankets, relaxing in the easy joy of the evening. 

You were rudely awoken by someone prodding you in the back. You blinked slowly, noticing that it was definitely still dark out - you could see the moonlight reflecting on the top of the lake. 

You turned toward the source of the prodding to see Draco smirking at you, the silvery light of the moon making a halo of his hair. 

“What are you doing?” You groaned, flopping back down onto your bed. “I’m tired.”

He pushed you again. 

“If you want to stay in here, just get in,” you said.   
“I’m not coming up here in the middle of the night to take a nap with you,” he said, louder than you would have liked. 

You sighed, rubbing your eyes, as he whispered “Lumos” and stuck his wand into your face. 

“I’m not having sex with you either,” you clarified.

He chuckled. “That’s a pity. But also not why I’m here.”  
“Why _are_ you here, then?” You asked, feeding into his narrative. 

“Because I’m going swimming, and you’re coming with me.”

You raised your eyebrows, pushing his wand away from your face and somehow noticing for the first time that he was wearing a pair of swimming trunks that looked much too expensive to bring anywhere near the Black Lake. 

“You look a right mess,” he observed, “hurry up.”

You sat back, letting out one last sigh of frustration for good measure. But when you really thought of it, swimming didn’t seem half bad. “Oh, alright,” you agreed, stumbling out of bed and tripping over your shoes. Draco put out a hand to steady you. 

“You know, if someone came to murder you in the middle of the night, they would have no problems.”

“Funny,” you conceded, making your way over to your dresser as you took your hair out of its messy knot. You grabbed the first swimsuit you saw, turning back to Draco. 

“Turn around, then,” you said tiredly, and he raised his eyebrows.  
“Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

You rolled your eyes. “Then at least don’t shine your wand at me.”

He chuckled, lowering his wand. You stripped off your shorts and unbuttoned your top quickly, pulling on the bathing suit. You glanced down at your shoes, but decided they were more trouble than they were worth. Barefoot, then. 

“Let’s go,” you said, grabbing your wand from your bedside table. 

The Black Lake was aptly named. The water shone like obsidian as you stood on the shore, looking at Draco with apprehension. The spring air was warm, but it still had a bit of a bite to it, and the water lapping at your toes was extremely cold. 

“What if the merpeople kidnap us?” You asked, half-joking.   
“Then you’re fending for yourself,” Draco answered, wading in further.   
“Are you being funny?” You called after him.

He turned to you, grinning. “I guess you’ll find out when it happens.”

You waded out after him. The water didn’t seem as cold when it was coming up to your waist. Little waves lapped up against you as you stepped to Draco’s side. 

The moon shone brightly overhead. You looked over at him to see that he was already looking at you. 

“You first,” he said, motioning for you to dive in. 

You shook your head, taking a step towards him. “No way. This was your idea.”

He leaned down, hand straying to the small of your back, and kissed you. You exhaled into his kiss, smiling against his lips. 

Then, suddenly, he broke away from you, and the hand that had been anchored on your back pushed you forward so that you fell headfirst into the lake. 

The water was shockingly cold, and as soon as you broke the surface, you stood up. The air whipped around you, feeling pleasantly warm compared to the lake. Your hair hung around your shoulders, dripping water all over you. 

Draco smirked at you, diving into the lake himself before you could retaliate. 

He cast some charm that you had never heard of to keep you both afloat as you swam out from the shore, so far that you could see the whole castle. 

You grinned at him, enveloping him in your arms and kissing him. Last time you and him had been at the lake together, Dean had walked out of the shadows and broken up with you. It was over a year and a half ago now. You remembered how hopeless you had felt, how in denial you were about your feelings for Draco.

“When Pansy wrote those notes,” Draco said, and you smiled at the thought that he was thinking the same thing as you, “I thought you were going to tell me that you broke up with Dean.”

“Did you want me to?”  
“Of course I wanted you to. I wanted you to fancy _me_.”  
“I did fancy you. I was just too stupid to realize.”

By the time you reached the shore again, you felt like you were on top of the world. Trelawney wasn't around, but if she was, she would probably be loudly proclaiming that your aura was vividly pink. 

As you basked in the happiness of the moment, an idea popped into your head. 

“Draco,” you said, and he turned around from where he was walking a couple of paces in front of you. You caught up to him, leaning into his chest and grinning. 

You pulled out your wand and whispered _“Expecto Patronum.”_ You didn’t even need to focus on that first day on the platform - the giddiness of this moment was more than enough. 

Wisps of blue shot out from your wand, mingling together in the air to form your leopard. It looked back at you, lighting up the night with its otherworldly blue.

You looked at Draco. He turned to you, reverence in his eyes, a small smile decorating his face.

“You did that?” He marveled.

You nodded. He turned back to it, and you watched as your patronus regarded him. They were locked in a staring contest for a second, then the leopard cocked its head and flicked its tail. 

It walked back towards you, circling around your head, and when it looked back towards Draco you could have sworn it started glowing brighter. 

Then Draco’s hands were on your back, and you looked up at him, nudged his nose with yours, and you were kissing, and he was holding you flush to him.

The leopard was so bright, shining so beautifully in the night sky, that you thought it must outshine the moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope y'all enjoyed! see you tomorrow!


	35. Floating

The air was finally warm again. You had been at the Quidditch pitch playing pickup games the whole afternoon, but the sun was setting and everyone had vacated the field to go get dinner.

You and Draco had stayed on the pitch, flying high in the sky to watch the sunset.

You had let the Snitch go with permission from Montague, and you were having an informal competition to see who could catch it more times. 

Unsurprisingly, the competition had been Draco’s idea. You weren’t much of a Seeker, all things considered. The constant hovering led to easy distractions, which made it much easier for Draco to find the Snitch before you. 

He used your distractibility to his advantage, often going into fake dives and leading you to aggressively tail him, thinking that he had seen the Snitch. 

Finally, after ten rounds (you had only won one, and it was pure luck), you locked the Snitch back up and deposited it in the equipment closet. 

“Shall we have a little fly before we go back to the castle?” Draco asked, and you agreed. The sun was on its last legs, and the sky was darkening quickly.  
“Let’s make it a race,” you said, eager to actually win something today. 

He grinned, already off the ground. “Alright. Race to the Whomping Willow.”

He was off before you could even say how ridiculous and dangerous of an ending point the Whomping Willow was. You rose quickly into the sky, leaning forward as much as you could to catch up to him. The wind whipped your face. You pushed harder, gaining on him and eventually passing him just before you reached the willow, which you flew very high above. 

“Fine, you win,” Draco said as he pulled up to the finish line. “That brings today’s total to 9-2, I believe.”

You looked at him, about to fire off an easy comeback, but the words died on your lips. His hair was ruffled over his face. His Quidditch practice uniform looked perfect on him. Even his expression - eyebrows slightly raised, a grin - caught you off guard. 

You felt that familiar electricity, the feeling that you only got when you were with him. With Dean, it had been butterflies - nice, but fleeting. With Theo, it had been flickers of annoyance. 

Draco was lightning - powerful, strong, sometimes stormy. It cracked through your body as his face morphed into an expression of light confusion. 

“What?” He asked.

The words fell out of your mouth. “I love you.”

His eyes widened, shoulders pulling back slightly. Your mind reeled. Had you actually just said that? You almost took it back, told him you didn’t mean it - but as you watched him stare at you, you knew that that would have been a lie. You did mean it. 

“You do?” He asked, his voice a little softer.

You knew then that he wouldn’t say it back. You had never expected him too, not really. Even if he did have those feelings for you, he would never actually admit it to himself - much less to you. But it didn’t matter whether or not he said it back to you. You still felt it. 

Your heart lifted. “Yeah, I do.”

“Race to the Astronomy Tower?” He proposed, and you nodded, taking off. 

You touched down just before him, stumbling off your broom to make sure you won. He laughed at you as he swung off smoothly. 

“I win,” you grinned.  
“That brings our total for the day to 9-3,” he replied, smug. 

But his face softened as he neared you. You smiled up at him. 

“You love me?” He asked again.  
“Are you heard of hearing?” You returned. 

He put his arms around you possessively as his face neared yours, hovering his lips just an inch away from you. Unwilling to wait, you leaned forward and kissed him. 

“You love me,” he grinned as you broke apart, “you’ve gone all soft.”

You bit his lower lip hard as he kissed you again and felt him laugh against you. 

The sun had completely set now, and stars had begun to twinkle in the sky. You grabbed his arm as you gazed upwards, watching him do the same. 

Tracey had told you the muggle names for the constellations last year, but you couldn’t remember any of them besides one that had to do with some sort of serving spoon. The stars burned wildly across the sky, but you saw out of the corner of your eye that Draco wasn't looking at them at all.

He was staring at you. 

You turned quickly, catching him in the act, but he didn’t look chastised. His gaze kept on you. You could never usually tell what he was thinking - his expression was a mask most of the time. It was a rare surprise to look at him and see joy, comfort, admiration, even anger. 

He wore everything today. He was smiling softly, eyes wide and staring at you. You were reminded of the face that he had made that day in Potions fourth year when he was trying to imitate the way he thought you looked at him. 

But this was real. You smiled back at him, feeling like you were glowing. He put his arm around your lower back and you leaned into his side, still staring up at the sky. He looked up too. 

It wasn't long until you were both looking back at each other, though, faces turning at the same time as if you could read each other’s minds. 

His hand anchored on your back as he leaned his head into the crook of your neck, resting his forehead on your shoulder for a second before turning back to you, capturing your lips in his. 

“You love me,” he mouthed against you, as if he was saying it to himself.  
“I love you,” you confirmed.

Your hands came up to hold his back, pulling him into you, breathing against him. His lips left yours, trailing over to the shell of your ear and down your neck. 

You cupped the nape of his neck, holding him to you, leaning against the wall of the tower and staring out at the sky beyond as he kissed you, hands moving with practiced ease from the small of your back to your waist. 

Then you heard a small creaking sound. You opened your eyes lazily, glancing across the room to see - surely not - Professor Sinistra standing in the doorway, a telescope in her hands. 

You gasped, and Malfoy laughed against your neck. You pushed at him, trying to communicate that it hadn’t been a reaction to him, it had been a reaction to the fact that there was a teacher in the room.

And behind her, an entire class of fourth years. 

“Draco,” you hissed, and he finally pulled off you, confusion written on his face. You gestured towards the door, and he turned around, shock registering when he saw everyone staring back at him.

You stood there for a second, both staring at the class at an absolute loss for words. Professor Sinistra clearly had no idea what to do either. Her hands were gripping the telescope so tightly that her knuckles were white. 

A couple of the fourth years started laughing, and you turned back to Draco with alarm, surprised to find that he was smiling. 

“Right,” he whispered, “the brooms, then?”

You nodded vigorously. There was no way that you were going to walk past the entire class. 

He picked his new Firebolt 3 up off the wall, tossing your faithful Nimbus 2001 to you. Professor Sinistra seemed to break out of her temporary state of frozenness just as you mounted your broom. 

“Mr. Malfoy, Ms. (Y/L/N), what is the meaning of this?”

Draco kicked off gracefully into the air, rocketing away. 

“Malfoy, you’re a prefect!” Professor Sinistra called after him.   
“Sorry, Professor,” you offered, taking off after him before she had the chance to say anything else. 

You caught up to him in the air, punching him lightly in the shoulder. 

“I swear you didn’t stop kissing me for at least a minute after they came in,” you said, attempting to scold him.   
“I was putting on a show,” he returned. 

It was a light moment, but you still felt your heart soar as you reflected on how far you had come. At the beginning of this year, he would have stopped talking to you for good if anyone had caught you so much as holding hands. Now an entire class had seen you and he thought it was funny. A show. 

It made you hope that things could keep changing, keep getting better and better. That someday he wouldn’t do things just to please his family, that he would truly distance himself from the prejudices that they had taught him. It would always be slow-going. But here was your reward - grinning on a broom, lit up by the moon. 

His expression became more serious as he watched you think. He was made for the moonlight, its silver reflecting off his hair and bringing out his light eyes. 

You hovered for a second, staring at each other. 

“Do you want to stay with me tonight?” He asked. 

Ever since the night he had taken you in there to heal your hand, it seemed like he had outgrown his fear of letting you into his room. You had slept there a couple times, often crashing there after parties or late night Quidditch practices.

His room was neat. It was always neat; his robes were hung, his sweaters folded in his ornate chest of drawers. His hand-stitched silver and green blankets winked in the moonlight. His desk was clear except for a piece of parchment with scribbled notes about Everlasting Elixirs. His room was right below the surface of the lake, so any light that hit its surface always filtered in. 

You breathed in. You loved the smell of his room - it smelled like firewood and the peppermint-vanilla of his cologne. He pointed his wand toward the empty fireplace in the corner of his room - you wondered what strings his father had pulled to get him a room with a fireplace in it - and muttered _“Incendio.”_

A fire sprang up quickly, the orange light mingling with the silvery light of the moon that shone through the lake and into his window. 

You lay down on his bed, breathing in the smell of him all over the blankets. You watched him lazily as he set his wand down on his bedside table, noticing a box on it that hadn’t been there the past couple times you had been in here. 

You gestured at it as he sat down on the edge of his bed, taking off his shoes. 

“What’s that?” You asked. 

He turned around to see what you were asking after, then picked up the box and tossed it over to you. 

“Honeysweets. Got them from Honeydukes last week.”

You smiled, opening the box and popping one in your mouth. It melted on your tongue, sweet and warm. 

“These are my favorites,” you murmured absentmindedly.  
“I know,” Draco said, taking off his practice jersey and depositing it in a drawer. 

You cocked your head. “How do you know that?”  
“I saw you buying them in third year,” he answered lazily, as if the answer was self-evident. 

You popped another one into your mouth. 

“So you were just stalking me in third year?” You asked.

Draco stripped off his shorts too, reaching into his drawer to pull out one of his signature pairs of silk pajama bottoms. 

“You don’t remember that conversation?” He asked as he pulled them on. 

You ate another honeysweet. You were going to have to cut yourself off soon, otherwise you’d eat the whole box. Draco climbed into bed. 

“No. We had a conversation about honeysweets?”

He grinned. “Yeah, I tried to make you give them to me. Told you they were Pansy’s favorites.”

He tugged the hem of your shirt, and you obliged, taking it off and tossing it off to the side. The conversation rang a bell - you remembered being pissed off at Draco in Honeydukes, and it definitely had something to do with Pansy.

“They’re Pansy’s favorites?” You asked as you pulled off your bottoms.   
“No,” Draco grinned, “I just wanted to piss you off, and I knew mentioning Pansy would do it.”

You kissed him, laughing. “Such a prick.”  
“I loved seeing you get angry over her," Draco grinned as he pulled you on top of him.

You leaned down and kissed him. 

You fell asleep facing him, his hand smoothing over your hair, your legs tangled together under the blankets. The fire crackled in the corner of the room, the moonlight glittered on the surface of the lake, and the half-eaten box of honeysweets had once again been discarded on the bedside table.

“Say it again,” he murmured, and you opened your eyes to see him looking at you through half-lids. 

You knew what he meant. 

“I love you,” you whispered, and he exhaled softly. His hand found yours and took it, holding it gently as you closed your eyes again, drifting off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	36. SNEAK

Patronuses decorated the air. You had been working on them for weeks now, and most everyone was able to produce one, besides little Colin Creevey and Neville, who could just about manage a shield form. 

Harry was walking the aisles, watching as people who could already produce a Patronus paired off and dueled. Sadie wasn't there - she had skipped this week’s meeting in favor of doing something with Simon - so you had dueled with Justin Finch-Fletchley instead. He was pretty good for a Hufflepuff, and had even managed to beat you once.

Now you were taking a bit of a break, casting defense spells on one of the dummies that flitted around the room. 

Ron had managed to disarm Hermione earlier, to his endless delight, and he had been talking about it ever since. 

“You know, it’s all about anticipation. Anticipating your opponent’s next move is the key to winning any duel,” he was saying to a couple of younger students. You couldn’t see Hermione, but you could feel her rolling her eyes. 

All of a sudden, Cho gasped from across the room. You looked over to see that she had produced a Patronus. A swan. 

Fitting, really. You had never seen a swan do anything but float around on the water. 

You clapped politely with everyone else as Harry congratulated her. You noticed that the dynamic was definitely off between them, and you were trying to think back to the last couple times you had seen them together when you heard a curious noise coming from the door.

You looked around and saw that other people were noticing it too. It almost sounded like someone was chipping away at the stone.

You stood up, taking a step nearer to the wall, when -

_“Bombarda Maxima!”_

The wall blew open, leaving a huge hole in its wake. As the dust died down, you saw Umbridge standing in its midst, the Inquisitorial Squad behind her. 

“Go, everyone, go!” Harry hissed, and people started getting up and running towards the back doors. 

Umbridge smiled cruelly. 

“Parkinson, Goyle, go around back and bring me anyone who tries to run.”

Pansy and Goyle receded, running off. It struck you that you should have tried to make a break for it, but, truthfully, you were frozen to the spot. 

Draco was flanking Umbridge. His wand pointed into the room, shining brightly. You tried to catch his eye, to somehow read what was going through his head, but his expression had assumed its usual mask of detachment. 

Members of the Inquisitorial Squad poured into the room. You saw Blaise grab Harry, Millicent grab Hermione, and Crabbe grab Ron. For the first time all night, you were glad that Sadie had skipped the meeting. 

Pansy came back into view, holding Ginny Weasley triumphantly. Ginny looked murderous. Goyle had grabbed Neville and Dean. 

You stood stock still, knowing what was about to happen as Umbridge fixed Draco with a look. You didn’t even try to put up a fight or run as he walked through the rubble towards you, wand lowered. 

He grabbed your wrists, pulling them behind your back with one hand. He placed his other hand on your shoulder. You weren’t sure if it was supposed to be reassuring or simply make it less likely that you could escape. 

You were marched down the hallways in line with everyone else, eventually packing into Umbridge’s office. 

It was a real who’s-who of the DA. Millicent Bulstrode and her younger sister Megan were holding the piece of parchment with everyone’s names on it that you had signed at the Hog’s Head, so they clearly knew every member, but they had only brought some of you up to Umbridge’s office. 

Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Harry, Neville, Dean, Luna, and you. 

Really, if the context had been different, you would have been honored to have been chosen as one of the ringleaders. 

But, as it was, you were standing in Umbridge’s pink office for the second time in two months. Your hand ached suddenly - you weren’t sure if it was a real pain or just something your brain made up to remind you exactly what had happened last time you were here. 

One of the cats purred as Umbridge walked up and down the line of you. 

Draco’s hands were tight around your wrists, his hand more lax upon your shoulder. You found yourself thankful that he was the one who grabbed you - you couldn’t see Pansy being too gentle with you, and she certainly wasn't being at all gentle with Ginny. 

Umbridge laughed to herself, then turned her back on you, walking towards her desk. You felt your heartbeat quicken as she leaned over and pulled out a stack of parchment from the drawer. Then the quill - the bright red one, the same one you had used. 

And she had more than one. She brought out eight, one for each of you, and as you glanced down at your classmates you saw that a couple of them seemed to know what the quills did, too. 

“We’ll start with fifty lines, shall we?” Umbridge said, “unless one of you would like to confess Dumbledore’s involvement in your group.”

Nobody said a word.

“The Minister is already on his way, so I’m afraid we don’t have too much time.”

Again, silence. 

“Hmm. Better make it 100 lines, then. ‘I must not break rules’ should do nicely.”

You would have smoothed your hand over the jagged scar that had risen on the back of your right hand if your hands weren’t being bound by Draco’s. You remembered the pain of last time - how it had felt having to carve into your own skin, over and over. 

“You may release them.” Umbridge directed her words at the Inquisitorial Squad. Just as they were about to, you heard a voice behind you. 

“Professor. A word?” 

You were almost too stunned to believe it. Draco had spoken. 

“What is it, Malfoy?”

Draco walked up to her desk, dragging you behind him. His grip on your wrists and your shoulders tightened painfully, and you grimaced. He leaned over her desk, speaking so quietly that you could only hear bits and pieces of their conversation. 

“ - Slytherin, and - “ Draco hissed.

Umbridge whispered lowly back, and you thought you caught the word ‘traitor.’

“... besmirch the name of… better to let me…” Draco was speaking.  
“She remains in complete violation… not to mention two previous warnings.”  
“... headstrong… inform Dumbledore…”  
“That won’t be a problem after tonight.”  
“Of course, professor… but I believe it would be prudent to…”

You tried to figure out what they were saying by the phrases that you picked up, but you had no idea if what Draco was asking even had anything to do with you at all. 

When the conversation ended, Draco steered you back to your spot in line - then kept going, walking you out of the office and down the hallway beyond. You knew better than to try to wrench out of his grip or talk to him. 

Finally, after you had gone down two floors and turned down a half a dozen corridors, you felt his grip on you relax. He let your hands go, took his hand off your shoulder, and turned towards you. 

“What was that?” You breathed. 

He put his hand on your back, steering you toward the entrance to the dungeons. 

“Which part?” He asked, then - “Argentum” - this week’s password. 

You walked into the common room to see that Sadie and Simon had waited for you. They both got up in a rush. 

“We heard - ” Sadie started, eyes darting back and forth between you and Draco.  
“I’m handling it,” Draco said. 

“I’ll talk to you later, Sadie,” you said, imploring her not to say anything stupid about her involvement in the club. You still weren’t sure exactly what Draco was up to.

Thankfully, she and Simon both remained silent as you followed Draco into his room. 

He didn’t start a fire, and the moon was dark, so very little light trickled into the room. The air seemed charged, ominous. 

“Which part?” Draco repeated, continuing your conversation from outside the common room.  
“How did you find us - who told you? And why did Umbridge just bring us to her office? And what did you say to her to get me out? And what is she going to do to them?”

“It was Marietta Edgecomb,” Draco said, cutting you off before you could think of another question to ask.   
“What?”  
“Marietta told Umbridge everything.”  
“I never liked her,” you said.   
“You don’t like any of Cho’s friends,” Draco returned.  
“So she told Umbridge everything then - what, you all just came running?”

Draco shrugged, sitting on his bed. “Yeah. She assigned us all people we had to get.”  
“She gave you me?”  
“I expect she was giving me a chance to prove my loyalties.”

You scoffed. “Well, you did.”

His eyes flashed. Angry. 

“Don’t say that. I got you out of there.”  
“What did you say to Umbridge to make that happen?”  
“I told her you’re a Slytherin, that you’d be able to be brought around. That everyone in the group would hate you anyway if you got away with it.”

You paused. You hadn’t thought of that piece of it. 

“That’s it? And she just let you leave?”  
“I told her I would deal with you on my own,” Draco said quietly. 

You could only see part of his face in the light from the dim moon. 

“And are you going to?”  
“Hurt you? No.”  
“Then what are you going to say to her?”  
“I haven’t thought of it yet.”

You wanted to ask more - what Umbridge’s plan was, what she was doing to the people that were still up in her office, why she thought Dumbledore was involved. But Draco looked so drained, his shoulders hunched over as he sat on the bed, his perfect posture abandoned. 

You sat down next to him. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. 

He looked at you then. “I lied to Umbridge. And now everyone in Potter’s group probably hates you. It won’t turn out well for either of us.”  
“It _will_ work out. For both of us.”

He shook his head slightly, as if you were a child who had just said something stupid. 

_“Expecto Patronum,”_ you said, not really sure why you thought of it. 

The leopard leaped out of your wand, lighting up the otherwise dark room. Its blue light reflected in Draco’s eyes as it pranced around the room. You leaned into his side, both tracking its motion.

“I can’t do it,” Draco said. “I’ve tried to do it so many times, but I can’t.”  
“You just need to pick the right memory,” you said softly. 

There was a long silence then, and eventually you let your patronus fade back into your wand. 

You sat there, side by side in the dark. 

“It’s so easy for you to be happy,” Draco said, so quietly that you barely heard it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you all enjoyed :)  
> thanks for your comments/kudos, they mean the world!!


	37. Rings

OWLs were right around the corner, so you had been pretty much camped out in the library for the past couple of days.

You had gone to your Careers Advice meeting with Professor Snape a couple days ago, and it had gone about as well as expected seeing as you really weren’t sure what you wanted to do after you left school. 

As a child, it had always been your dearest wish to be an Auror, but lately you had been thinking about being a reporter instead - working for the Daily Prophet seemed interesting - and the brochure they had passed out on becoming a Gringotts curse-breaker had drawn you in easily.

Snape had shot down the curse-breaker idea quickly - you needed to have taken Arithmancy, and you hadn’t. He had sneered when you mentioned the Daily Prophet, so that was out too. 

When you floated being an Auror, however, he had sat back in his chair, surveying you. After a moment of silence, he had nodded to himself. 

“That would make a satisfactory line of work for you,” he had agreed. 

So it was that you would have to get an ‘Exceeds Expectations’ in Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and Charms, and an ‘Outstanding’ in Potions. 

This was both good news and bad news. The good news was that you no longer had to try to do well in Divination. The bad news was that you had to start trying very hard in everything else. You were good enough at Charms and Transfiguration that you thought a good bit of studying would put you at an ‘E’ level, and Potions was your best subject. 

Defense Against the Dark Arts, however, had gone from one of your favorite classes to your absolute least favorite under Umbridge. You had stopped paying attention around the time that DA had started, and you were woefully unaware of the textbook’s curriculum. 

Hence why you were spending all your time in the library. You had tried to read that awful ministry textbook half a dozen times, but your mind went on autopilot every time you did, skimming over the words instead of actually reading them. 

To compensate, you had read each chapter heading and picked out books from the Restricted Section that had to do with each topic. You hoped that would be enough - at least it would be a third party giving the exam, not Umbridge. 

As you read through a suspiciously hairy book about werewolves, you felt the couch sink next to you. You looked up to see Draco, his notes in hand. 

“Ancient Runes again?” You asked. 

He nodded, sitting back and propping his feet up. You leaned back into him so that the back of your head was resting on his chest, moving up and down slightly each time he took a breath. 

He hadn’t ever told you what he told Umbridge he did to you, but you didn’t want to bring it up. You had seen him sad before, but it was always in more of an angry way, a fighting sort of sad. That night, all the fight seemed to have drained out of him as he sat on the edge of his bed. 

_It’s so easy for you to be happy._ You hadn’t known what to say to that. 

Whatever he told Umbridge, it seemed to have worked, because he was still wearing his Inquisitorial Squad Badge and you hadn’t yet been called to her office. For their part, Harry and his friends were no longer interested in speaking to you at all. 

You had tried a couple times, especially with Ginny, but the fact that you were still with Draco after he had helped bust the DA was apparently an insurmountable obstacle. 

At first, it had been like a gut punch. It probably would have been worse if you and Draco hadn’t been so good lately. You hadn’t argued in a while, he was acting normal, hanging out with you in public, being affectionate towards you. 

You told your mind to stop reeling, trying to focus on the steady rise and fall of Draco’s chest beneath you and the book you were reading. 

The book was soon forgotten, though - as it usually was when Draco came to sit with you. He started playing with your hair absentmindedly as he read his notes, fingers combing through your tangles. 

You smiled, curling onto your side so that you were lying against him and could see his notes. He put his arm around you. 

His notes looked like they were in a different language - well, they were in a different language. You were thankful that you had never taken Ancient Runes. 

You zoned out as he murmured something about translation, deciding instead to play with the rings on his left hand. Like always, he was wearing the big silver signet ring with the snake, but he had decorated both his hands with smaller bands. 

You took the signet ring off his ring finger, slipping it onto yours. Far too big. You held out your hand anyway, admiring it. 

_“Reducio,”_ Draco murmured from above you, and the ring shrunk to fit you. You looked up at him, grinning. 

“Suits you,” he said.  
“So I can keep it?”  
“Not a chance.”

He put down his notes, smiling at the ring on your finger then leaning down to kiss you. You almost protested - you were in the middle of the library after all - but nobody was really around, and besides, you didn’t want to stop. 

He deepened the kiss slowly, and you looped your arms around his neck, dragging him closer to you. You hummed into his lips, happy, and you felt them curve into a smile under yours. 

Then he pulled apart from you, grabbed his notes, and leaned back into the couch. 

You gazed up at him, confused, and he laughed. 

“We’re in public, get your mind out of the gutter.”  
___________________________

It was raining now. You were hanging out in your room after a long day of studying - and by hanging out, you meant that you were still studying. 

Draco was in and out of sleep, his notes long discarded, and you were almost done with the werewolf book - just two more chapters. Despite his earlier assertions, you still had the snake ring on your right hand, and you turned it around your finger absentmindedly as you read. 

“I can’t take this anymore,” you heard from beside you, and you turned to see Draco fixing you with a smirk. Before you could even react, he grabbed your book from your hands and got out of bed, walking across the room and depositing it on your desk. 

“I was almost done,” you protested.  
“Then come get it and finish it.”

You smiled, knowing exactly what he was up to.

“Unless there’s something else you’d rather be doing?” You shook your head, and he shrugged. “I thought not,” he murmured. 

His hands traveled slowly to the hem of his shirt, and your eyes tracked them. He took his time pulling his shirt off, deliberate movements, miles of skin on show. He discarded it on the floor. 

“Come over here,” he said slowly, and you were out of bed at once, cutting the distance between you eagerly. Your eyes flicked from his eyes to his chest. 

“Go on,” he said, leaning back against your desk. You didn’t hesitate, taking a bold step towards him so that your bodies were pressed together. You brought your hands to his trousers, unbuttoning them with practiced movements, feeling him getting harder beneath your palm. 

You looked up at him, smirking, keeping eye contact as you pulled them down his thighs. 

Then you stepped back, playing a teasing smile across your face, and turned to walk back towards the bed, lying down and lazily returning your eyes to his body. 

Draco was on you in an instant, on top of you, pulling your body up into his. 

He studied you for a second, eyes flashing with lust. Then his lips were on yours, and your hand gripped at his shoulder, and you were sighing into his lips, feeling him unbuttoning your shirt as he kissed you. 

He broke apart from you, ducking his face down for a second as he focused on getting the rest of your clothes off your body. You squirmed beneath him, hating being this close to him without your bodies being pressed together. 

As soon as he looked back up at you, you crashed your lips against his, and his hand responded in kind, coming up to hold the back of your neck, pulling you into his aggressively. You hooked a leg over his, every inch of you humming, calling out for him. 

His hips moved against you, fingers trailing down your neck. You shivered, biting at his bottom lip a bit, and he growled against you, pushing you further into the mattress, grinding into you. 

He kissed you for so long you felt light-headed, your mind swimming, lost in him. 

Your skin burned against him, quivering as you felt him grow closer and closer to you, hard against your thigh. You shook your head. 

“Don’t...” you breathed out, and he looked up, confused.  
“You want me to stop?”  
“No!” You said more forcefully than you had meant to, “I mean... don’t be careful.”

For a second, he kept your eye contact. 

Then he slammed into you. You gasped, your hands tightening on his shoulder and his neck. Before you could take a breath, his mouth was against yours, and you cried into it, already feeling your body shaking with the force of him. 

You started moving with him, rocking your hips up towards him as quickly as you dared, trying to match his movements. He wrapped his fingers into your hair, pulling a bit, and let out a string of curses. 

You dragged your hands to the side of his face, scratching up his skin, not bothering to be careful. You could hear the headboard of your bed slamming into the wall behind you with every stroke, but you didn’t care, it was like you were drowning and flying all at once, seeing stars. 

He stopped inside you, pulling your hips to him, filling you up. You tried to rock against him, but he stilled you with hands on your waist, staring down at you with darkening eyes. 

“Say it,” he growled, and you knew exactly what he meant, you always did.

“I love you,” you whimpered, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You hugged your face into his neck, your arms wrapped around his back, feeling your whole body shuddering. 

He thrust into you once, twice, a third time, and tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you felt your body jump, your toes curling as you came, and then he reached his high too, and you felt his hips stutter against you, breathing out your name into your ear. 

He pulled out of you but stayed on top of you, wrapping his arms around your back and resting his head on your chest. Your hands carded through his hair as your movements steadied, and you felt your eyelids getting heavier. 

When you woke up, the sun was going down. You rolled over to see that Draco was awake too. 

“I guess we slept through dinner,” you murmured, and he nodded. 

He pulled up your hand, looking at his ring, which was still on your finger. He let it down eventually, but kept hold of it. You heard the sound of music playing from somewhere in the castle. 

“Sounds like dinner’s going on right now, actually,” he observed, “that’s probably that ridiculous toad choir.”  
“I like them,” you said, and he raised his eyebrows at you.

An idea struck you, and you got out of bed. Draco sat up, clearly unwilling to leave the warmth of the blankets. 

“Come on, let’s dance,” you said.  
“Don’t be stupid.”

You walked over to his side of the bed, tugging his arm. 

“Come on, get up. Or I’m not studying with you anymore.”  
“We never did much studying,” he countered, but he got out of bed all the same. 

You put your arms on his shoulders, and he put his on your waist. You remembered how awkward everyone had been at the Yule Ball, dancing like this. How everyone’s arms were rigid, holding their dates as far apart as they could while secretly wanting them to be closer. 

You and Draco started close, swaying around the room to the faint sounds of the choir. The orange tones of the sunset glowed against his skin. He was quite a good dancer, you remembered that much. It had pissed you off to see him looking so perfect next to Pansy. 

“We never really got to dance, did we?” He said, clearly thinking about the same thing as you.  
“No, we never did. You were being a bit of a dick.”  
“I meant to dance with you. That’s why I came out. Pity you didn’t let me.”

You laughed, ducking your head into his chest. “Pity you didn’t ask.”  
“You wouldn’t have said yes. You were still convinced you hated me.”

You thought back on that day, how he had you pinned against the wall, how he had asked if he meant nothing to you and you found that, for some reason, you couldn’t tell him yes. 

“You know what?” You mused, “I think that’s when I figured out that I didn’t.”  
“A bit slow on the uptake, you are.”

He pulled you closer, and your dance turned into a bit of a sway, then ended up just being a hug. You breathed him in, hoping that your bed would still smell of him when you went to sleep tonight. 

You would ask him to stay, but you never did that - you always waited for him to ask, never wanting to force him into anything, to make him feel trapped. 

The sun disappeared below the lake and the sky darkened. You looked up at him, hoping that things would somehow work out, that you could find a way to bridge all the obstacles. It was times like these where you really thought you could. 

“Should we go raid the kitchens?” He asked after a while. Your stomach growled in answer. 

You made it out with enough leftover dinner for the both of you three times over, and he produced a box of honeysweets from a mystery shelf. You took it into one of the courtyards to eat. 

The stars glowed brightly overhead. After that night at the Astronomy Tower, you had made Tracey tell you all the muggle names for the constellations again. 

You pointed into the northern sky at a dim group of stars. 

“See that dull one over there? The muggles call it Draco.” You grinned.  
“Do they really?”  
“They do.”  
“Stupid muggles.” He never used the term ‘mudblood’ around you anymore.  
“What, pissed off that it’s not big enough?”

He shoved you playfully as you took a huge bite of food, making you choke slightly. 

“Well don’t die. I wouldn’t want my last words to you to be ‘stupid muggles.’”  
“How romantic,” you deadpanned. 

The air was warm, but a breeze blew through the causeway, cooling you off. You looked over at him to see that he was staring down at your hand again. 

“I’ve changed my mind,” he said carefully, “keep the ring.”

You held out your hand so that it glowed in the moonlight, admiring the way it looked on your finger. 

“You sure?”  
“It’s mine,” he said, “you’re mine.”

“Subtle,” you said, rolling your eyes. It would have been a nice sentiment had he not looked so self-satisfied saying it. 

But you couldn’t lie - the thought of people seeing the ring on your finger and knowing, the thought that that’s what he wanted to happen… especially when he was looking as good as he did right now...

You tangled your hand into the hair at the nape of his neck, dragging him towards you.

“Needy tonight,” he observed. 

His tongue brushed against your bottom lip, and you opened your mouth readily, letting him in. He moved on top of you without breaking the kiss, one of his hands moving to your back to pull you up against him. 

He broke the kiss, and you chased his lips immediately, desperate to have them back on yours. His hands moved under your shirt, steadying against your bare skin. You tried to unbutton it with one hand, but you couldn’t get it. Draco pushed your hand aside, making quick work of it. 

You shrugged your shirt off into the grass behind you, then pulled at his. He steadied himself with one hand on the ground, taking it off in one deft movement. 

You tried to pull him back into you, but he stopped you with a hand on your chest. You lay back on the ground and he hovered above you, eyes traveling slowly up and down your form. Taking you in. 

Then, finally, he curved his hand under your back, pulling you back up to him, skin to skin. 

You moved your head into the crook of his neck, kissing his neck softly then nipping at his collarbone. His grip tightened on your waist, pressing down.

Then you heard them - footsteps. 

You stopped kissing him, your head whipping up to figure out where they were coming from. He made a noise of frustration, hands moving up to your neck to steer you back towards him. You grabbed his wrist, steadying him. 

“Draco, wait. I hear someone.”

He was silent then, and you both waited to hear where the noise was coming from. Everything was silent for a second, and Draco was about to open his mouth and tell you off for hearing things when you heard it again. 

Footsteps. Just one glance at him told you that he had heard it too. 

You both scrambled up. You found your shirt easily, pulling it on and working at the buttons. Draco didn’t have as much luck. 

“Where the bloody hell’s my shirt?” He hissed, and you looked around as you tried to keep buttoning as fast as you could.  
“Just there, on the ground,” you pointed, finally getting the last button done as he grabbed it and pulled it over his head. 

His hair looked ridiculous, and you were about to tell him so, but before you could, someone turned the corner and stared directly into the courtyard. 

Someone being Professor Snape. 

You looked away immediately, trying to make it seem like you hadn’t seen him, but he didn’t buy it.

“Mr. Malfoy, Ms. (Y/L/N), may I ask what you’re doing out in the courtyards after curfew - on OWLs week, no less?”

Your mind reeled, trying to come up with an excuse, but Draco got there first. 

“Inquisitorial Squad duties, Professor,” he said.

Snape raised his eyebrows. “Indeed. I had no idea that Ms. (Y/L/N) was in that group.”  
“I’m just… helping him patrol the castle,” you said, and Draco shot you a look that clearly said _I’ll handle this._

“We’ll be on our way, Professor,” Draco said. Snape regarded him carefully.  
“I’m loathe to take points away from Slytherin, but if I catch you two out of bed again, I will have no choice.”

You nodded gratefully, looking down. Draco grabbed your forearm, pulling you away. 

“And Mr. Malfoy - your shirt seems to be on backwards,” Snape observed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanna give you all some happiness before sixth year eek
> 
> thank you so much for your comments/kudos - they're super motivating and i LOVE seeing what you think :)


	38. OWLs and Owls

Your cauldron bubbled, a fierce lilac color. Your hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but the constant steaming of the mixture had turned it into a frizzy mess. 

You poured in the Aconit fluid slowly, steadily, and watched as the color of the potion deepened, turning almost indigo. You breathed a sigh of relief, taking it off the heat and turning around to grind the pearl dust.

You were making one of the trickiest potions in the book - a particularly challenging Everlasting Elixir. You had been brewing for three hours now, and were nearing the end of the instructions, but you couldn’t afford to lose focus yet. 

One you had ground the pearl dust as finely as possible, you added it in three pinches at a time, watching closely, until the potion stopped bubbling. 

Then you grabbed your stirring spoon. Eight times counterclockwise, eight times clockwise. 

A drop of vanilla extract. One more pinch of pearl dust. Three more stirs clockwise, one counterclockwise. 

You closed your eyes and crossed your fingers, a little muggle practice that Tracey had taught you. You needed all the luck you could get right now. When you opened them, your potion stared back at you, bright blue now and looking almost metallic on the surface. Perfect. You breathed a sigh of relief, sitting back in your chair and surveying the room for the first time since you had started brewing. 

Pansy’s potion had bubbled over - good, really, you were hoping she wouldn’t be able to continue - and Crabbe and Goyle had somehow managed to turn their mixtures an ugly shade of brown. 

You craned your neck to see Blaise’s - it was blue, but not the same shade as yours. He had probably forgotten to add the last pinch of pearl dust, if you had to guess. 

Malfoy was the only other person who was finished. You glanced at his cauldron to see that he had made the perfect mixture. You grinned at him, and he got up and walked over to you. 

“Are you allowed up?” You asked, and he shrugged.  
“I’m done,” he said, looking over at your mixture, “yours looks good.”

You smirked. “Perfect, actually. Some of my best work.”

He sat down next to you, looking you over. 

“Hair’s a mess,” he observed.  
“Yeah, thanks for mentioning,” you rolled your eyes, “it’s not like I’ve just been standing over a steaming potion for three hours.”

He ran his hand through his own hair. “So have I,” he said, “and _my_ hair still looks good.”

You sighed. Somehow, it really did. 

“Take it down, I’ll deal with it,” he murmured, and you obliged, watching everyone else continue brewing. A Ravenclaw whose name you never bothered to learn poured in all his pearl dust at once, and his mixture caught fire. You chuckled.

Draco ran his hands through your hair, untangling it. You had Transfiguration next, and you took out the notes you had made to study with, glancing them over. Draco’s hands were still in your hair, methodically pulling at strands. 

“What are you doing?” You asked.  
“Braiding,” he answered. 

You hummed in surprise. 

“Did Pansy teach you?” You asked.  
He chuckled. “No. My mother.”

You smiled, looking back down at your notes as he braided behind you. He wasn't being gentle by any means, but you appreciated the sentiment and so kept your mouth shut. 

You handed him a pin when he was finished, and as soon as he fastened it in your hair, the proctor spoke. 

“Time is up, students. Please bottle your potions and line them up on the front desk with your name clearly displayed. Good luck to you all.”

Draco got up, going to bottle his mixture, and you did the same. It was strange being in the dungeons without Snape barking orders and making passive aggressive comments about the way you were preparing your ingredients. 

You caught up with Draco in the hallway. He put his arm around your back, pulling you into his side and grinning at you. Your braid swung slightly as you walked through the hallway. 

As soon as the hallway branched off into an empty corridor, he dragged you into it, kissing you deeply. You broke apart, putting your hand on his chest and laughing. 

“I’ll be late for Transfiguration.”  
“Then be late for Transfiguration,” he said, leaning his face into your neck and sucking against your pulse point. 

“I’m serious,” you said softly, and he looked back up at you.  
“So am I.”

You grinned, shaking your head, and he sighed. He stepped aside so that you could get by him, but he grabbed your waist as you did. 

“I’ll be waiting for you,” he whispered, and leaned back against the wall, watching you as you walked away. 

Leave it to Draco to make sure that he was all you were thinking about during your Transfiguration OWL. 

Despite the distraction, you still did well. You managed to turn all of the plateware into little animals - your only mistake had been that one of the mice you had transfigured was the same color as the plate it had come from, which was a blazing pastel yellow.

But you were feeling pretty confident as you made your way back to your room. You had taken Charms yesterday, so now you only had one more exam - Defense Against the Dark Arts. You blocked all thoughts of that out of your mind, promising yourself that you would go over vampires and other humanoid creatures again tomorrow morning before the exam began. 

The common room was full of people studying, along with a couple third years playing Wizard’s Chess in front of the fire. You made your way up the winding stairs, opening your door to see that Draco was indeed waiting for you inside. 

He was asleep on your bed. You snorted, putting your books down on your desk and taking off your robes. You took off your shoes, too, abandoning them by the door and going to lie down with him. As the bed sunk slightly under your weight, he stirred, eyes opening slightly. 

Upon seeing it was you, he just rolled on top of you, settled in, and fell back asleep. 

His head was on your chest, his arms wrapped around your back. It was rare, you two being like this - usually, you were the one on his chest, he was the one holding you. 

You smoothed your hands through his air, all the activity of the day settling into you, making you feel heavy and tired. His smell filled the air, and you drifted off. 

You woke up to lips on yours, eyes opening slowly to see Draco leaning up from your chest. He took his lips away from yours, resting his chin on your chest to look up at you. You couldn’t imagine yourself looking too good from this angle, but he didn’t seem to care. 

You ran your fingers through his hair again. 

“We’re going to miss dinner if we carry on like this,” he said, and you sighed.   
“You go on, I want to do some studying before.”

He shook his head, smiling. “You really think you’re going to do badly on Defense Against the Dark Arts?”  
“I’ve barely paid attention all year.”

He rolled off you, sitting up. 

“You can produce a Patronus. I think that gets you at least an ‘E.’”

You hadn’t thought of that. He had a good point. You sat up too, yawning. The braid he had put in your hair early had gotten extremely messy in your sleep, so you brought your hands up to take it out, slowly teasing the strands apart from each other. 

He leaned into you, kissing you quickly then getting out of your bed, grabbing his robes from the floor and pulling them on over his sweater. 

“See you, then,” he said, and you nodded your agreement. 

You ended up going to dinner about an hour later - around exam times, people filtered in and out of the Great Hall whenever they wanted, so dinner lasted a couple hours longer than usual. It was almost over by the time you got there, and only a couple odd groups sat at each of the tables, books and notes scattered out in front of them. 

You spotted Tracey and Simon right away and went to go sit with them. 

Simon, who wanted to never work a day in his life after school, but who had settled for becoming an Arithmancer instead, had a bunch of notes with seemingly random numbers scribbled all over them. 

“Don’t ask,” Tracey said, “he might try to explain it.”  
“My apologies for thinking you were smart enough to understand six-body number theory.”

You shot Tracey a look to say you had no idea what that was, either. 

You looked down the table, intent on catching Draco’s eye, but you didn’t see him at all. Maybe he had just eaten quickly and gone back to his room to study. He had Defense Against the Dark Arts tomorrow too, and it was by no means one of his best classes. 

“Was Draco here?” You asked Tracey absentmindedly, grabbing some food and piling it onto your plate.   
“No, I haven’t seen him all day,” Tracey replied.

You ate quickly, chatted to Tracey quietly so as not to disturb Simon, then eventually left, resolving to read the vampire chapter of your textbook again, then remembering you had left it in Draco’s room a couple days ago.

As you made your way down to the dungeons, you caught up with Blaise. You hadn’t spoken to him since that night that he had healed the back of your hand, but, as far as you knew, he hadn’t told anyone else about it. Anyways, if anyone besides you was likely to know where Draco was, it would be him. 

“Blaise,” you said, and he turned around, his face morphing into unsubtle surprise when he saw it was you that had called his name. 

He stopped walking though, allowing you to catch up. 

“Have you seen Draco? He has one of my textbooks in his room.”  
“And you need his permission to go inside?” He asked, incredulous.  
“I’m just wondering if you’ve seen him.”  
“Yeah, I’ve seen him. He got an owl from his father.”

You paused, but Blaise kept walking, so you had to walk faster to catch up with him again. 

“From his father?”  
“Yes, that’s what I just said. He’s left the castle. What, he didn’t tell you?”

Blaise sneered, clearly finding it amusing that Draco hadn’t seen fit to tell you that he was leaving. You paused, wondering yourself why he hadn’t. It had probably been a last-minute thing, something he couldn’t tell you before he had to leave. 

“Acerbus,” you said, this week’s password, and pushed in front of Blaise into the common room. 

Draco didn’t come back the next day, or the day after that. Your Defense Against the Dark Arts exam actually went splendidly - on Draco’s advice, you had produced a Patronus, and the proctor had been beside himself with glee. 

You had rushed back to the common room to tell him before remembering that he wasn't in the castle at all. 

All your exams done with, you hung out with your friends in the courtyard and flew around with Sebastian and the Gryffindors, but you often found yourself thinking of things that you wanted to tell him, ideas of things to do together. 

You woke up one night and lay awake for a while, thinking about how much you’d rather be in his room. The moon was bright, and you knew it would be bathing his room in a silvery light, filtering down through the water. You sighed. 

When you woke up the next day, he still wasn't there. There was only one week left of term, and you found yourself wondering whether he would come back at all, or whether you wouldn’t see him again until next term began. 

Sadie and Simon were in Hogsmeade with Tracey and Michael, and Sebastian was up in the fourth floor broom closet with (unbelievably) Katie Bell, so you were alone for the day. 

You practiced some new spells for a while, but quickly grew bored of that and decided to wander around the castle, avoiding the fourth floor. 

You found yourself on top of the Astronomy Tower, staring up into the blue sky and looking over the lake and the green mountains beyond it. Summer was in the air now, and you breathed it in. 

You grabbed lunch, checking to see if Tracey, Sadie, or Simon was back from Hogsmeade yet - they weren’t. So you hung out in the library for a while, grabbing someone’s copy of the Daily Prophet and skimming it for any interesting news. Nothing. 

Sebastian was in the common room when you got back, and you probed him with questions about Katie Bell as you two sat down for a game of Wizard’s Chess. You were horrible at it, but Sebastian wasn't much better, so you found yourselves at a sort of impasse. 

“You alright?” He asked after a while. 

You nodded, trying to decide whether or not you should move your queen. Simon was the only one of you that was actually good at Wizard’s Chess - what was he always saying? _Think three moves ahead._ You couldn’t even think one move ahead. Your thoughts were elsewhere. 

“You sure?” Simon wondered.

You looked up at him and saw that he was fixing you with the same look he used to give you when you were dating Theo last year. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.”  
“Have you heard anything from Malfoy?” 

You shook your head, deciding to move your queen after all. 

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” Sebastian said, and you nodded. In reality, you weren’t so sure. 

He moved his knight, who pulled out his hefty sword and chopped your queen’s head off. You furrowed your brows, wondering how on earth you had missed it. 

You lay awake again that night, listening to the sound of the lake lapping up against the castle walls. You rolled over on your side, staring at your wand on the bedside table. Your window was open, and the summer air drifted in, warming the room up. 

It was late - the moon was high in the sky. You had half a mind to get up and wander around the castle, but Snape had made it all too clear what would happen if he caught you out past curfew again. Besides, wandering around the castle had been all you had been doing for the past week. You probably could have drawn up a map of every floor from memory, portraits and all. 

Suddenly, you heard a knock. You sat up in bed, disbelieving. Maybe your mind was inventing things. But then you heard it again. Louder. Your heart raced, daring to hope that maybe…

You got out of bed, running a hand through your tangled hair and walking over the door, trying to keep your steps steady. You opened it.

And there he was. Draco.

You began to smile, but it dropped off your face quickly as you took him in. He looked… disheveled. Exhausted. His hair was a mess, and not in the tousled way he sometimes wore it. His shoulders were hunched, perfect posture abandoned. His clothes hung off him haggardly, looking like they didn’t fit him right. 

But it was his face that really made you freeze. The expression he was wearing was the polar opposite of the mask he usually had on. His eyes looked hollow, filled with deep sadness. His mouth was downturned - not in the usual holier-than-thou smirk, but instead in an despondent frown. 

You were reminded of the night Umbridge had caught the DA, how he had looked after he took you to his room. The way his whole body had seemed bowed, how hopeless his voice sounded as he said _it’s so easy for you to be happy._

Only he looked somehow worse tonight. 

You struggled to think of something to say, something to do, your eyes darting back and forth across his face. 

Then he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him, against him. You ducked into his chest, feeling his head resting atop yours. You could feel his heartbeat reverberate through his body. 

You put your hands around his back, soothing up and down, mind racing as you tried to figure out what was going on. 

“Draco,” you murmured. You tried to pull away, to look at him, but he didn’t let you. He tightened his hold on you, pulling you even further into him. 

He kicked the door closed behind him, and you felt his breaths get shaky around you. 

“Draco…” you said again, and he let you go. 

You took a step back, taking in his form for the second time. You felt an overwhelming need to hug him again, to comfort him. His eyes were wild, his hands gripping each other tightly. You used the same trick when you were trying not to cry. His breaths were uneven, shaking his body. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, trying to keep your voice steady. 

He shook his head, turning his head to look out the window, then back at the door, as if he was thinking about leaving. 

You stepped back to him quickly, hands on his arms, steadying him. 

“You don’t have to tell me, just stay here,” you implored, and he nodded, still refusing to make eye contact with you. 

You wrapped your arms around him, tentative, but he didn’t reciprocate, just standing there, arms hanging at his sides. 

You took one of his hands. 

“Lie down,” you whispered, hoping he would listen. He nodded again, allowing you to lead him to your bed. He lay down, squeezing his eyes shut. 

You lay next to him, heart thundering, desperately trying to figure out what had happened. You put your arms around him, pulling him in close to you. You kept your breaths slow and steady, hoping his body would match them. He was still for a while, eyes closed. 

Then his hands came up, wrapping around you, pulling you into him. You exhaled. Relief. 

He pushed your head into the crook of his neck, as if he was the one comforting you. Maybe that made him feel better, more in control. You carded your fingers through his hair above you, all your movements slow, steady. 

“I missed you,” he said, finally, and you felt your chest contract. 

You carded your hands through his hair again. “I know you did.”

“I’m sorry.”  
“That’s alright.”

His hands tightened against your back again, holding you so close to him that you had to take smaller breaths. You didn’t move, though, keeping your hand steady on his back, fingers smoothing his hair.

You felt his tears against your face, but you didn’t say anything. You just kept breathing against him until you felt him relax into sleep. Somehow, you did too. 

When you woke up, he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...


	39. Avoidance

You didn’t quite believe that he was gone at first. You rolled over, hand searching for him amongst the blankets, then sat up and looked around the room, as if he was hiding in some corner. But no, he was really gone. 

You might have thought it was a dream if his smell hadn’t lingered, if the way he had looked hadn’t been burned into your brain. 

Someone knocked on your door. Your heart leapt. 

“Come in,” you said, but it was Sadie that opened the door. You raised your eyebrows, confused as to why Sadie would come wake you up when you would see her at breakfast anyway. 

“You won’t believe what’s happened,” she said, coming and sitting on your bed. She looked at you quizzically. “Are you alright?”

You nodded. “Just tired.”

She took your word for it, clearly bursting to share the news. 

“Harry and them went to the Ministry of Magic last night,” she hissed. You furrowed your brows as she continued. “Apparently Harry had some sort of vision and they thought that You-Know-Who had taken Sirius, so they all went to get him. Turned out You-Know-Who planted the vision in his head or something.”

You sat up, suddenly very awake. 

“What? Where did you hear this?”  
“Talked to Ginny this morning. Ron and Hermione are in the hospital wing. But Dumbledore was there too. He and You-Know-Who were dueling, but You-Know-Who left when Fudge showed up.”  
“So it’s true. He’s back.” 

You had always believed Harry, of course, but it felt different now that it was unequivocally true.

Sadie nodded solemnly. “Yeah. He’s back. And… well… the Death Eaters were all there too… (Y/N), Lucius was there.”

You felt your heart sink, putting together the pieces in your head. Draco had gotten back to the castle last night, so there was no way he could’ve been there too. But maybe he knew about it, maybe that's why he was so despondent. 

For some reason, the thought filled you with resolve. At least you knew something now, had _something_ to work with. You could use this, think of a way forward.

Sadie covered your hand with hers. “I’m sorry,” she said.  
“Draco’s not his father,” you returned. 

“I know,” she said, her eyebrows raising slightly, “but he is… well, he is his son.”

You knew what she meant. There were certain similarities between Draco and his father. Those were the things that, in your lowest moments together, made you question your relationship with him. Yes, Draco could be cruel - he could be downright horrible. His old prejudices had never completely worn off, and he could rarely bring himself to see fault in any of his actions, much less apologize. 

But that wasn't him, not really. That wasn't how you saw him. You didn’t see him in the ways that he was like his father - of course he was, how could he not be - you saw him in the ways he was different. Because, truly, the fact that he was different from his father at all spoke to how strong he was. How smart. How resilient.

“He’s his son,” you agreed. “But he didn’t choose to be.”

Sadie waited for you as you got ready for breakfast, and walked up to the Great Hall with you. You looked over at her and felt a little glowing in your chest - how lucky you were, really, to have friends like her. 

Sebastian, Tracey, and Simon waited at the table, proving your point. Simon and Sebastian were having a competition to see who could drink the most pumpkin juice in one minute. This was not a new contest by any means - it had been in effect since second year, and, by the last count, Sebastian was the reigning champion. 

Sadie rolled her eyes as you sat down. “Sebastian, last time you guys did this you were throwing up orange goop in the bathroom for an hour.”

Sebastian turned to her, smirking. “Ah. But I won, didn’t I?” He turned back to Simon, rubbing it in. “Didn’t I, Simon?”

Simon nodded. “Go on. The more you brag, the more embarrassing it will be when you inevitably lose.”

You swung into your seat, looking away as they raised their jugs to each other. Watching the two of them chug pumpkin juice was enough to make anyone lose their appetite. 

You found your gaze straying down the table, as it so often did these days. Lucky that Draco’s hair was so noticeable, otherwise it would take you much longer to find him among the other fifth years. You looked at him for a while, but he didn’t catch your eye. 

It seemed like he was completely tuned out of the conversation around him, too. Blaise said something that made everyone break into a smile except for him. Crabbe nudged him in the shoulder and he looked downright murderous. 

You heard a yell from Sebastian, and looked back at the boys to see that Simon was standing up on the bench, flexing. He pointed at Sadie. 

“I do it all for you,” he grinned, miming firing off an arrow.  
“I wish you wouldn’t,” she returned, but broke into a smile as he swung back down in his seat. 

Sebastian groaned. “You cheated.”  
“How?”  
“I dunno. You just did. There’s no way you could have beaten me.”  
“Believe it, Sebastian. You’ve been unseated.”

You smiled as you watched their antics, but your gaze was drawn back to Draco as you saw him get up from the table out of the corner of your eye. Everyone else was still eating, so he was alone as he walked down the length of the table and out towards the exit. 

You got up too, shooting your friends an apologetic look. Sadie squeezed your hand. 

“Good luck,” she said, and you nodded. She probably thought that you were about to speak to him for the first time since he’d gotten back. You smiled tightly at her, then got up yourself, hurrying down the table. 

You caught up to him in the hallway. 

“Draco,” you called, but he didn’t turn around. You walked faster, catching up to him. “Draco,” you said again, but he kept looking forward as if you didn’t exist. 

You put your hand out in front of him, and he breezed through it, eyes still facing forward. 

You sighed, picking up the pace again until you were just in front of him, then sidestepping so that if he kept walking forward he’d run into you. He stopped.

“You’re being ridiculous,” you said. 

He ignored you, stepping to the side himself and trying to move past you. You grabbed his robes, and he made eye contact with you for the first time. You were shocked by how little emotion his eyes conveyed - maybe it was stupid to be surprised that he could hide his feelings at this point.

“Listen, I know what happened at the Ministry, and I’m not -”  
“You have no idea,” he growled. 

You were struck by how angry he sounded. You had been expecting some sadness - how could you not after last night? - or that he might just try to pretend that nothing had happened at all, one of his most rudimentary defense mechanisms. 

“I don’t know the details, Draco, but I know what happened.”  
“Good for you. Must be fucking nice, hearing about it second-hand.”  
“Are you angry with me?”  
“Maybe I am.”

He pushed past you, not bothering to move aside so that he didn’t hit you. You would’ve stopped him, tried to go after him maybe, but the anger in his tone disarmed you and, quite frankly, pissed you off. 

You walked back into the Great Hall. Simon and Sebastian were still in a pumpkin-juice related argument, but Tracey and Sadie both gave you questioning looks. 

“I didn’t catch him,” you lied. 

Tracey shot you a look of sympathy, and Sadie squeezed your hand under the table. 

You and Sebastian had a rematch of Wizard’s Chess in the common room that afternoon, but you were distracted again. For a different reason. Well, the same reason, really. The first time, you had been distracted by the fact that Draco wasn't in the castle. Now, you were distracted by the fact that he was acting like he had never returned, like last night had never happened. 

You watched him over Sebastian’s shoulder. He was sitting on a couch with Pansy and Blaise. Pansy and Blaise were clearly gossiping, trading mean jokes and looking around the room with superiority written all over their faces, eyes landing on someone in a corner and then going back to whispering and laughing. 

Draco sat on their right. From the outside, he looked like a part of their group. He _was_ a part of their group - the leader of it, really. Had been since first year. 

But he wasn't part of their conversation. He was staring into space, looking gloomy. His head rested in his hands, and he only gave noncommittal nods or shakes of the head when Pansy or Blaise looked in his direction. 

Finally, he looked up, and you made eye contact with him. He didn’t look away immediately, and your heart jumped. You tried to look understanding, comforting, tried to communicate your wish that he would just _talk_ to you, try to explain what was going on. 

He kept looking at you for a couple more seconds, and you were about to get up when he shook his head at you and went back to staring off into space. 

“(Y/N),” Sebastian said, “it’s your go.”

It was your last Quidditch practice of the year that night, and you felt simultaneous joy and dread. You always loved being on your broom, and you had grown a certain fondness for the rest of the team, warts and all. Warts being Crabbe and Goyle - and maybe fondness was too strong a word for them. _Tolerance_ would work better in that regard. But the thought of not being able to fly around on the pitch all summer was a depressing thought.

Then there was the Draco piece of it. Usually, you treated Quidditch practice as a sort of friendly competition between you, chatting together so often that Montague had learned to place you at least two people apart in the huddle. You wanted to see Draco, to convince him that he could talk to you, to be able to talk to him again. You missed him. 

At the same time, though, you were dreading the thought that he would just blow you off again, that he would continue to blow you off for the rest of the year and never talk to you at all, ever again. And then your last memories of him would be him disappearing, missing him, and seeing him at what you could only picture being his lowest point. Not ideal.

Very much not ideal, because only two minutes into your warm up drills you knew that he was, in fact, going to try to avoid you. You were supposed to be tossing the Quaffle to each other - you expected Montague had paired you up as a sort of last-practice treat, seeing as he usually avoided letting you two interact at all. 

Draco was literally looking away from you as you tossed it to him, leading him to fumble the ball, and his aim was off terribly too. 

“You alright there, Malfoy?” Montague called, and Draco nodded back.   
“This is crazy, Draco,” you hissed at him, “if you don’t want to talk, then fine, but you at least have to _look_ at me if we’re doing a tossing drill.”

He didn’t. As practice went on, your annoyance at him built, slowly dissolving into anger. You had thought about him all the time when he was gone, waiting for him to come back, saving up all your stories and jokes to tell him. 

And then when he had, when he clearly needed you to comfort him, you had done just that. You didn’t ask for an explanation, didn’t try to make him tell you what was happening. You had just been there for him. And now he wouldn’t even look at you. 

Practice ended with Montague making a huge speech about how meaningful this year had been to him and promising to make next year - his last year - the best yet.

He let you go a bit early, and everyone including him had gone off without bothering with the showers. Draco had, though, so you made an excuse to stay at the pitch. 

You took your broom out, polishing it as you waited for Draco to come out of the showers so that you could force him to talk to you. With each stroke of polish, you resolved yourself to not let him go until he told you what was going on with him, or at least gave you a good reason why he couldn’t. 

He emerged from the showers after a good twenty minutes. He had changed out of his uniform, wearing a casual sweater now, and his hair was slick with water. He didn’t notice you until you put your broom up. 

He whipped around then, face morphing from surprise into something else before assuming its usual detached expression. You latched onto the something else, walking up to him. 

He grabbed his broom kit and sped out the door before you could. You ran out after him, not bothering to change out of your uniform. You could deal with that later. 

“Draco, seriously, you have to talk to me,” you yelled after him, but he walked determinedly forward into the dark sky. 

Anger burned in your chest as you ran after him. 

“What’s your plan - to break up with me by never speaking to me again?” The reality that that could very well be the situation hit you in the chest, adding to your anger. 

As soon as you caught up to him, you grabbed his arm, pulling at him. 

He stopped. Let you pull him to you. You took a deep breath, hoping against hope that that meant that he would let you speak. 

“I don’t want to break up with you,” he said.  
“So you just want me to be your girlfriend but never talk to me again?”  
“No,” he said, but his face wasn't sure. “I don’t know.”  
“You don’t know? You _don’t know_ if you want to talk to me anymore?”

Your heart thundered in your chest, mind reeling desperately back to your last good memory of him. Right before he had left the castle. His head had been resting on your chest, your arms wrapped around his back. He had murmured something about dinner in your ear. 

Your eyes stung. You didn’t even care, didn’t think about it. Was he serious? What could have happened in those three days to negate your entire relationship - everything that you had spent so long building up, making good? 

He was silent, eyes searching yours. 

“No,” you said, not even thinking about your words as they poured out of your mouth. “No, I’m not letting you do this.”

“Maybe you should,” he said quietly. You latched onto his tone, his phrasing, searching for anything that meant that he still wanted to be with you. 

“I won’t. I’m not. I need you to talk to me. I need you.”

And suddenly his lips were on yours. You exhaled into the kiss, hands coming up to grip at fistfuls of his sweater. Your heart hammered, wondering what this meant, wondering what this all meant. 

His hands eclipsed yours, resting on them, but then suddenly they were pushing - pushing you away. Hard.

You stumbled backwards, looking at him in disbelief. His eyes were wild, flashing with emotions that you couldn’t read. He made a noise of distress, shaking his head, staring up into the sky as if the stars had an answer for him. 

Then he looked at you again, backing away, holding his hands in front of him as if trying to ward you off. 

“Please don’t do this,” you found yourself saying, walking closer to him, faster, faster. 

You watched as his hands came down, as his face morphed into an expression that was anything but reserved. He let you come near him, watching you warily. “Please,” you repeated, hearing the tears in your voice, “don’t do this.” He let you put your arms around him, lean into him, but he stood stock still as you did. 

“Just tell me what happened. We can fix it, Draco.” You looked up at him. “We _can.”_ You made your voice forceful. You had to convince him. 

He regarded you, and finally, _finally,_ his arms came up and held you loosely. Unsure. But it didn’t matter. 

“Tell me what happened,” you said against his chest. 

Wrong thing to say. He pushed you off him again, and you let out a sob. Pitiful, really. But you didn’t care. You just needed to get through to him. Had to. 

“I don’t see why it matters so much to you,” Draco said darkly. You could have laughed outright. 

“Because,” you said, making sure his eyes stayed on yours, “I love you. I love you. I always will. I don’t care if you don’t say it back to me, Draco, I don’t care if you never do.” 

Tears roamed down your face. He looked distressed, running his fingers through his hair, which was still wet from the shower. He fidgeted, digging his nails into the palm of his hand. He let out a frustrated sort of whimper, and you stood there, waiting for him to say something. 

“You can’t love me,” he said finally.   
“I can. I do. Please just… let me…”

You took a step closer to him, and he did let you. You put your arms around him again, and he reciprocated, exhaling into your hair. You looked up at him. 

“So you’ll talk to me again, then.”

He nodded, but his eyes screamed despair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter ends fifth year! 
> 
> thank you all for reading and your lovely comments :)


	40. The Necklace

You wished things could have just gone back to normal. Well, maybe that wasn't entirely true. It would have been bizarre if Draco had left the castle for three days, come back a mess, avoided you the whole next day, and alluded to the fact that he wasn't sure if he wanted to talk to you anymore and then everything had miraculously gone back to normal. 

But the way that things were between you and Draco now was so strange that you almost wondered if that would be preferable. 

You did do some things like normal - flying around the castle, sneaking into the kitchens, hanging out in your rooms - but it had been two days since you had confronted him on the Quidditch pitch, and Draco almost seemed as if he was just going through the motions now. 

Until night fell. He always made some weak excuse to stay with you, and you accepted it every time, not caring why, only caring that it happened. 

At night, he would cling to you, pull you so close to him that you would wake up breathing shallowly and sweating. 

You wanted more than anything to comfort him, to make him feel safe and happy with you, but it was hard to do when you had no idea what was wrong. 

Maybe that’s why you started the argument. So that he would get mad at you. You just needed to see him feel something other than what seemed to be an overwhelming sense of hopelessness or an overwhelming sense of nothingness. 

You did it right after he woke up. You were surprised that he had actually stayed in your bed until morning - even when things had been normal between you, before he left the castle, he had usually snuck out in the middle of the night and gone back to his room. 

You pushed him away from you, moving out of his grip. He hadn’t protested, just shot you a strange look. That was bait enough. 

“You know, I can’t comfort you forever if you don’t tell me what’s wrong,” you said.   
He sat up. “I’m not going to tell you. You know that.”  
“Then why should I try with you anymore?”

“You begged me to try. I’ll remind you that I wanted to end things.”  
“No you didn’t. You said you didn’t want to break up with me.”  
“I said that _you_ should break up with me.”  
“Is that really what you want?”

He shook his head. “It’s not about what I want. I’m just biding my time with you.”

“Biding your time? What does that mean?”

“Means I’m waiting for you to break up with me. I thought it would be easier if I stopped talking to you, but you had a problem with that, so here we are.”  
“What makes you think I would break up with you?”

He scoffed, shaking his head at you. 

“How about the fact that you and your pathetic friends are going to side with Potter on everything, and you know I can’t?”

You ignored the obvious barb about your friends. It was what he did when he was angry - say things he thought would hurt you to disguise the actual feeling in his words. You had become very adept at figuring out what he really meant. 

“Yeah, I do side with Potter. That has nothing to do with you.”  
“Nothing to do with me? I know you know that my father was at the Ministry with them.”  
“Were you?”  
“Was I what?”  
“Were you at the Ministry?” You asked, raising your eyebrows. He looked confused.

“No. I was here. I was... with you.”   
“Then I don’t see the problem. You aren’t your father, Draco. And Harry and them - they’re right about everything -”

He opened your mouth to argue, but you kept talking, refusing to let him interrupt. 

“They _are,_ Draco, whether or not you’re ready to believe it. But they have no idea what it’s like being you. None. They will never understand. Even I won’t ever be able to, not really. You’re not a bad person, you know. You’re… you. In spite of it all.”

As you spoke, you watched the anger drain from eyes. By the time you stopped, he was just staring at you. There was a long silence. For a second, you worried that you had lost him, that this was somehow the final straw. 

“Say something,” you implored.

“I’ll never let you become part of it,” he said, “never.”  
“What?”  
“My… my family’s loyalties. My loyalties.”

You nodded, heart softening quickly. He sounded so sincere as he said it, like he was promising himself more than anyone else. 

“For what it’s worth,” you said softly, moving to lie back down next to him, “I won’t let you either.”  
“Don’t be stupid. I don’t have a choice.”  
“You do. You have me.”

You leaned back into his chest, curving your arm around his side. As you closed your eyes and relaxed against him, you couldn’t help but think that things would get better. You intended to keep your word, too. You would always be there for him, in spite of it all.  
___________________________

It was your last day in Hogsmeade - your last day at Hogwarts, really. Tomorrow afternoon, you would get on the Hogwarts Express and travel back towards London. 

You hadn’t packed yet. You never packed until the last minute, unwilling to believe you would really have to leave the castle. 

You were in the Three Broomsticks with Sadie and Tracey, drinking butterbeers and gossiping about the goings-on around the castle. Ginny and Dean had made it official, and you found you were actually happy for them. 

Sebastian and Simon were at Zonko’s, meaning that you would have to check the common room thoroughly before sitting down anywhere. 

You gazed out across the street, seeing a couple people milling around outside and in the windows of Dervish and Banges. 

“Are things better with Malfoy?” Tracey asked, and you nodded.  
“He’s still being weird. It’s like he either needs to be as close to me as possible or he doesn’t even want to look at me. I guess it’s just that he’s upset.”

Sadie nodded sympathetically. 

“Speaking of...” Tracey said, and motioned out the window. You looked out to see Draco coming out of Dervish and Banges. He made eye contact with you through the window and waved you over. 

You looked back at your friends.

“Oh, go on, we won’t be offended,” Sadie said. 

You smiled gratefully, leaving a couple of Sickles behind to pay for your drink.

Draco was standing off to the side of Dervish and Banges, outside the entrance to the alley that he had pulled you into third year. So much had changed since then. 

“I have something for you,” he said, and you raised your eyebrows.

He brought out an unassuming black box with a symbol on it that you didn’t recognize, and opened it up to reveal a necklace. It was simple but ornate. The silver chain looked almost snakelike - the links forming scales. 

You looked back up at Draco.

“Do you like it?”  
“Yes.”

You weren’t sure how to express just how much it meant to you, and you didn’t want to scare him off by saying so, but you pushed the message through your eyes as you spoke. You hoped he understood.

He nodded gratefully, face softening. 

“We’ll make this work,” you said softly, “no matter what, we’ll make this work.”

He nodded again, but his face looked less sure this time. It was strange - every time you tried to reassure him that you weren’t going anywhere, he seemed to pull away more. 

He smoothed your hair back from your face, winding the necklace around your neck and clasping it. It was somehow more beautiful on. You looked up at him again, and he brought you into a quick hug. You breathed him in. You would miss the smell of him this summer.   
____________________________

The train stopped at the platform, and everyone got up, crowding the aisles as they grabbed their trunks and bags from the shelves above. You and your friends stayed in your compartment until people started getting off the train and the aisles were clear enough to walk through without losing each other. 

You had had to put your trunk on the shelves a couple rows down, and you walked down the aisle quickly to grab it.

Then the door to the train car opened and Draco walked in. He glanced at your neck, where you were wearing his necklace, and smiled softlyas you struggled to pull your trunk down from above. 

“Thanks for the help,” you said as you finally got it onto the ground. 

He put his arm around you, leaning into your side. 

“I’ll write you,” he said.  
“You had better,” you grinned, but you looked up at him to see that expression wasn't one of happiness.

He took your hand. 

“I’m sorry about everything.”  
“I forgive you. I always will.” You were always gentle with him when he apologized. 

“Just remember that, yeah? That I’m sorry,” he said again, eyes searching yours.  
“What does that mean?”

He just squeezed your hand then, walking with you down the aisle and towards the door leading onto the platform. You went to let his hand go before you walked out, but he held fast. 

“Your father?” You asked.  
“I don’t care,” he returned, squeezing your hand again. 

So you descended onto the platform together, hand in hand, the silver necklace snaking around your neck, his signet ring glowing on your finger. 

_It will all work out,_ you thought. _It has to._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sixth year tomorrow! i'm so excited :)
> 
> thanks as always for your comments/kudos!


	41. Knockturn Alley (sixth year)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! i'm so excited to get into sixth year :) just a reminder that the storyline will get darker from here because i'm (mostly) following canon! so consider yourself warned

It was an apocalyptic morning in Diagon Alley. The wind had picked up, blowing newspapers and wanted posters across the streets. You walked close in step to your mother and father, who were bundled up as if it was cold. 

Lights bounced off the end of the street, where Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes remained the only shop that looked unchanged. 

The wind picked up a newspaper, slapping it against your leg. You picked it up, about to throw it back into the wind, when something caught your eye. 

It wasn't the front page - no, this page had come from somewhere further back in the newspaper, far enough back that you hadn’t bothered to read it this morning before you left the house.

Draco’s face stared up at you. Hardened. He was pictured with his mother as they exited a courtroom. As usual, his expression was emotionless, though it somehow seemed different - as if the distant look in his eyes wasn't a choice, but a necessity. Narcissa held his hand as they walked. She would have looked the picture of regal grace had her mascara not been smeared under her eyes. 

Next to that picture was a mugshot. Lucius Malfoy, sunken eyes, pale skin. Defeated.

The headline proclaimed: “Malfoy Sentenced to Azkaban.”

You dropped the newspaper, watching it for a second as it tumbled into the wind behind you. 

“Keep up,” you heard your father say, and rushed to step back in time with your parents. You couldn’t stray, couldn’t walk around alone anymore. Not with Voldemort back in full force. 

As you made your way down the narrow streets, your mind kept thinking back to Draco’s face in the newspaper. You knew his father had been sentenced to Azkaban - your father had loudly proclaimed that it was about time - but you had no idea how Draco felt about the whole thing. 

Well, you could imagine that he probably didn’t feel too great about it. 

But you couldn’t really know. Despite his promise to write to you, the only owls that had arrived at your house had been from Sadie, Tracey, and Sebastian. You were furious at first, but as his family and his father kept popping up in the news, you forgave it. 

Surely he just wasn't in the mentality to write to you knowing that his father was on trial - then knowing that his father would be sent to Azkaban. Lucius was a true force in Draco’s life, albeit a cold and cruel one. You could imagine the toll losing him would take on Draco. 

Still, it hurt that he hadn’t written to you. Even a short note would have done. But you hadn’t heard from him all summer. 

You had other things to worry about, too. Your parents refused to ally themselves with Voldemort and the Death Eaters, but they weren’t willing to join the Order of the Phoenix, either. After all, it was made up of their old school rivals who despised them on principle because they were Slytherins.

One couldn’t simply refuse if the Death Eaters came calling, though, so they were going to be forced to go into hiding while you were at school. The thought made your chest contract, so you tried not to dwell on it too much. 

You passed Magical Menagerie and were surprised to see a couple of owls and a couple of cats still in the window. You paused, looking inside. 

Your mother stopped too, placing her hand on your shoulder. 

“You know, you always used to stop here and beg me for a cat.”

You smiled, a little sadly. That was back when Diagon Alley was full of laughter, shouting, and chaotic crowds. 

A bushy white cat jumped down from the counter, prowling around the store. You watched it carefully as it jumped up onto the windowsill, making its way over to where you and your mother stood. There it sat, tail whipping back and forth slowly as it stared at you. 

You turned to your mom, a silent question on your face. 

The store owner said that the cat was a girl, just barely two years old. He had been calling it Kaya, and you liked the name enough to keep it. You stared down into her greenish eyes as you kept following your parents. 

“Keep up,” your father said again. 

The sounds of laughter emanating from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes faded into the background before disappearing altogether as you kept walking further and further into Diagon Alley, until it wasn't Diagon Alley at all. 

A dilapidated sign over the entrance to a small side street read ‘Knockturn Alley.’

Your father took your arm, pulling you closer to him as you turned into it. You were headed towards Borgin and Burkes, where your parents had put something on hold that they promised to explain to you once you were there. 

Borgin and Burkes was, to put it simply, one of your least favorite places on earth. Sure, some of the artifacts were cool, but there was a layer of dust on everything, the air smelled stale and rotten, and Borgin was incredibly creepy. 

As you entered, a bell chimed loudly. 

Borgin crept out of the back, his back hunched. His long, thin hair was balding, creating a sort of wig-like effect. 

“Ah, yes, Mr. and Mrs. (Y/L/N). I’ve been expecting you.”  
“And you have the parchment?”

Borgin grinned widely, walking over to a table stacked high with peculiar objects and picking up two unassuming pieces of parchment. 

“Of course, of course. I received your owl about the expense.”  
“Yes, well, we’re willing to pay it.”

He grinned again, handing your father the two papers. Your father handed him back a small bag of money. It clinked together as it changed hands. 

“It’s all there,” your father said quietly.  
“You’ll be hearing from me if it isn’t,” Borgin assured. 

Your father nodded, turning back towards you and your mother and leading you outside the store. He looked up and down the street to make sure nobody was there. 

“Right, (Y/N). These are Inscription Papers - they’re charmed to appear in any room you occupy. Anything we write on our copy will transcribe to yours, and you’ll be the only one able to see it - but it will only work once each way. Understand?”

You blinked. “So then…”  
“When the year ends, we’ll write to you, tell you where to find us or where we’ll be waiting for you. Or in case something… more dangerous occurs.”

You nodded. Your father handed you the piece of parchment, and you folded it, sticking it into the pocket of your robes. 

Your mother leaned into your father, and he put an arm on her back, soothing her. 

“Come on, then. We need to make it to the platform by noon.”

You had left your childhood home only yesterday, possibly for the last time. It had felt like leaving behind an old friend. You couldn’t stay in the Leaky Cauldron this year - too dangerous, so you had had to do all your school shopping this morning and hope that you could get to the platform in time for the train to leave. 

Your parents had to leave you outside the station - walking onto the platform was too dangerous, even if the Ministry was around. Your father suspected that the Ministry was already under the effects of the Imperius curse, whether or not they knew it, and he was not prepared to take chances when it came to your family’s safety. 

You gave both your parents quick, firm hugs goodbye. 

“I’ll see you soon,” you said. It sounded more like a desperate hope than a simple statement. 

You were determined not to look back as you walked into the station, fearing that your mother would be crying or that your father would be looking into the distance with that look on his face that meant he wasn't really there. 

The platform was a mess. 

“(Y/N),” you heard a shout, and you turned to see Sadie and Simon making their way through the crowd. Your mood lifted at once. 

Sadie motioned towards Kaya in your arms. “Is it yours?”  
“Yes, my mother finally caved.”  
“Oh, gorgeous,” she said, squeezing your hand.  
“Ridiculous,” Simon said, shaking his head with a playful smile, “who would buy a cat when you could get an owl?”

You caught up with Tracey and Sebastian on the train - they had already found a compartment. You put your trunks up on the shelves but allowed Kaya to wander around, much to the chagrin of Simon and the delight of everyone else. 

You talked about the usual stuff - how your summers had been, why Simon couldn’t bother to write for the fifth year in a row - but it was all dampened by the unspoken underlayer of the conversation. Nothing about the summer had been normal, and nothing about the coming year would be, either. 

You were seized with a sudden need to cry when Simon absentmindedly mentioned his mother. 

“I need the bathroom. Sebastian, watch Kaya, would you?”

Sebastian tried to pick the cat up off the floor, but she batted at his hand with her paw. 

“Smart cat,” Tracey grinned, and Sebastian said something back that you didn’t quite catch as you exited the compartment. 

Taking a deep breath, you walked down the corridor towards the bathrooms at the end of the car. You squeezed your nail into your palm, your failsafe protection against crying in public. 

Unfortunately, the trolley witch was rolling down the other direction, forcing you to duck into an empty compartment and wait for her to go by. You wondered briefly why nobody had claimed the compartment to sit in, but there seemed to be a couple of little holes in the wall. 

As she passed, you heard the distinct voice of someone you knew quite well. Draco. 

You froze, taking a couple of steps towards the far wall and leaning closer to it. Draco and the rest of his Slytherin friends must have been in the next compartment because you could hear them clearly, especially through the little holes. 

“He invited _Longbottom?”_ You heard Draco say, and the incredulity in his voice immediately stirred up annoyance. You had no idea what he was talking about, but he was clearly insinuating that Neville was inferior in some way. 

“Well, I assume so, as Longbottom was there,” another voice drawled, and you recognized it as Blaise’s. 

“What’s Longbottom got to interest Slughorn?” Draco wondered, and you furrowed your brows. You had never heard the name _Slughorn_ before.

“Oh, Potter, precious Potter, obviously he wanted a look at the Chosen One,” Draco continued, his voice mocking. 

The Prophet had been lauding Harry as the ‘Chosen One’ lately, which you found a bit ridiculous and far-fetched - after all, he was a nineteen-year-old boy. It was hardly fair to place the burden of the entire wizarding world on his shoulders. 

But Draco probably hated it for a different reason - the fact that Harry was getting attention for possibly being the key to defeating Voldemort, whereas he was getting attention for having his father sent to the highest-security prison in the country. 

“But that Weasley girl! What’s so special about _her?”_ Draco sneered, and you deduced that he was talking about Ginny. You struggled to figure out what Harry, Ginny, Neville, Blaise, and someone named Slughorn all had to do with each other. 

“A lot of boys like her,” said a third voice, and your eyes narrowed. Pansy. “Even _you_ think she’s good looking, Blaise, and we all know how hard you are to please.”

She spoke with a kind of spite in her words, and you wondered what exactly had happened between Pansy and Blaise. 

“I wouldn’t touch a filthy little blood traitor like her whatever she looked like,” Blaise returned, voice cold and clinical. 

You clenched your jaw. You hated that term.

“Careful,” Draco said, his tone hardening.

“Just because you were getting your dick wet with a blood traitor all last year doesn’t make it right, Malfoy,” Blaise said, and your eyes widened.

“I said _careful,”_ you heard Draco repeat, an edge to his voice.   
“Consider me terrified,” Blaise said casually.  
“Maybe you should be,” Draco said, then something else - but his voice was too quiet to hear through the walls. 

You were broken out of your eavesdropping when you heard Sadie’s voice talking to the trolley witch. You decided not to go to the bathroom after all and walked back down the corridor, swinging back into your compartment and smiling as Kaya jumped onto your lap. 

“She’s smart, that one,” Tracey said, reaching over to pet her. Kaya purred. 

Your mind was elsewhere, though - specifically back in the empty compartment, going over what you had overheard so much that it all blurred together in your mind. Try as you might, you couldn’t find any meaning to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you guys enjoyed!   
> THANK YOU for all your comments and kudos (1000 kudos is INSANE!)


	42. Missing Assignments

The feast was as grand as ever, the tables piled high, the candles floating overhead as nervous first-years walked across the hall to their tables. 

Draco came in later than everyone else, just before the first-years entered the hall, and Harry came even after him. You noticed his face was covered in quite a bit of blood and shot a glance at Draco, who was looking at him murderously. 

_Surely not,_ you thought, but your mind cut back to the way Draco had spit Harry’s name out on the train as if there wasn't a more deplorable thing in the world. 

You resolved to talk to him about it later. You would have to talk to him about quite a lot later, actually - a whole summer of buildup. 

You expected him to be waiting in the common room after you left Sebastian and Simon’s room the way he had last year, but there was no one still up by the time you, Tracey, and Sadie walked back to the girls’ dorm. Perhaps it was too late. Maybe he was tired from the train… from whatever he had done to Harry. 

The next morning at breakfast, after having some toast, an egg, and some pumpkin juice, you saw Draco get up to leave the table. Sensing an opportunity, you got up too, going to wait for him by the entrance to the Great Hall. 

He brushed by you, not even making eye contact. 

“Draco,” you called after him, remembering the end of last year when you had had to do the same thing to get his attention. 

He turned, glancing at you with disinterest, then kept walking down the corridor. 

“Draco,” you said again, confused. 

You ran to catch up with him, grabbing the sleeve of his robe. 

He rounded on you again, looking surprised and repulsed. “Hands off me,” he said, then pulled his robes out of your loose grip. You were too stunned to follow him after that. 

Last year, he had avoided you because he was upset about - well, about something having to do with his father. You remembered grabbing his sleeve in this same hallway. He had turned on you in anger, spitting biting words at you. 

This was different. He made it seem as if you were some stranger grabbing at his robes, one of those younger girls who always hung off to the side of whatever room he was in, blushing and whispering. 

You shook off your feeling of concern, reminding yourself that he could sometimes be like this. No matter what, he would have to see you in class and at Quidditch practice. Talking to you was unavoidable, really, so he wouldn’t be able to keep up whatever act he was putting on for long. 

Except he did. 

You showed up to your first Quidditch practice of the year early, hair up and uniform on. You loved the smell of the broom shed - wood and polish. You breathed it in as you took out your new broom - a Firebolt 2, a little outdated but extremely fast. 

Montague marveled over it, comparing it to his broom as the rest of the team filtered in. 

Bletchley showed up first, your trusty Keeper, and he and Montague traded bets about the new players on the Holyhead Harpies as you stared at the door. 

Pucey was next to arrive, and you grinned. Montague immediately pulled you two into a huddle - the three Chasers - gushing over the game plans he had drawn over the summer. He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper with moving dots and arrows. 

“See, (Y/N), you’re the pink dot, just here. Pucey, you’re yellow.”

“Yellow? Change that, that’s Hufflepuff colors!”   
“It doesn’t matter.”  
“Yes, it does. Who’s this green dot here?”  
“Me, of course,” Montague answered.   
“Oh, so you get to be green?” Pucey questioned. 

You looked up at the door as Crabbe and Goyle entered, Crabbe’s head knocking against the doorway. You rolled your eyes. Out of all the decisions Montague had made for the team, Crabbe and Goyle were the ones you struggled to make sense of. It’s not that they were bad Beaters - they were par for the course, really - they were just so thick that you doubted they could make hide nor tail of Montague’s plans.

You were just waiting on Malfoy now. Your heart thundered in anticipation, excitement and nervousness mingling in your veins. 

Then Harper walked into the shed. 

You blinked. Harper was the reserve Seeker - he had never played a match and barely even showed up to practice. Maybe he was just trying to get in good with Montague in case a spot opened up on the team? 

Montague looked up, seeing him, and walked to the front of the shed to address the entire team. 

“Alright, then, we’re all here, so let’s get started.”

You wanted to object. You were not all here, and it seemed strange that Montague would forget about the Seeker of all positions. 

“You all know Harper,” Montague said, clapping him quite aggressively on the back. “Harper, you know everyone. He’ll be taking over for Malfoy this year.”

Your jaw dropped. You looked across the room to see that Bletchley and Pucey also looked surprised. You couldn’t tell what Crabbe and Goyle were thinking - nothing, most likely. 

“Taking over for Malfoy?” Pucey asked.  
“That’s right. We’ll start drilling with the Snitch.”

“Sorry,” you cut in, “but why isn’t Draco playing?”

Montague raised his eyebrows at you, looking a little surprised. 

“I dunno, he resigned last week. Figured you would know more than me, being his girlfriend and all.”

You nodded slowly. _Were_ you still his girlfriend? The notion seemed strange. You hadn’t spoken in months, and he was actively avoiding you. But you hadn’t ever broken up, not really, and the rest of the school apparently thought you were still on. 

Your hand reached absentmindedly for your neck, fingering the silver chain he had given you at the end of last year. Even through all your uncertainty over the summer, you hadn’t ever taken it off. 

“Like I said,” Montague said, background noise for your thoughts, “We’re drilling with the Snitch tonight to get Harper more used to the dynamic. Bletchley, I want you to play dummy keeper so that Pucey and (Y/L/N) can practice my new runs.”

You rose into the sky on your broom, thankful the air was still warm. Had Draco really quit Quidditch, which you knew he loved, just to avoid you? The thought seemed elementary, stupid. Even if he had, it wasn't like he could avoid you in class. 

It turned out you were wrong about that, too. You had Potions and Transfiguration both with Draco this year, but he made sure to sit as far apart from you as he could on the first day. You were the only one of your friends who was taking Potions at N.E.W.T level, but Sadie, Tracey, and Simon were in Transfiguration with you, and both nudged you when he moved all his stuff across the classroom. 

You had caught them up on the situation, of course. 

“Is he just trying to act like you don’t exist?” Tracey had hissed.

You shrugged, eyes inexplicably burning. 

“Coward,” Simon said, putting his hand on your shoulder. Simon showing you affection - that was how you knew just how pathetic the situation was. 

Even if Draco _had_ sat right next to you in class, though, you wouldn’t have been seeing much of him. He routinely showed up late or not at all, and both McGonagall and Slughorn had asked him to stay behind multiple times. 

On days where you had to turn in papers, his desk was empty. It was strange, really - Draco was incredibly smart. You wondered why he wasn't working at all, especially in Potions, which was his favorite class. 

Maybe it was the fact that Slughorn didn’t give Slytherins (and particularly Draco) the preference that Snape had. Slughorn was a bit of an odd bird. According to Sadie, he was rumored to “collect” students, which you guessed explained why he had met with Blaise, Harry, Ginny, and Neville on the train. 

You liked him, actually - he had a sort of charm to him, a zest for magic that Snape’s cynicism had tamped down. He proudly showed off the Potions he made, routinely holding little contests with grand prizes up for grabs. 

It should have been Draco’s cup of tea - he was incredible at Potions and had a knack for competition. So the fact that he wasn't showing up to class was strange, and what was even more bizarre was that his Potions weren’t as good as usual. 

Even Harry was somehow showing him up - well, he was showing everyone up, including Granger, much to your surprise. You didn’t remember him being too good at Potions last year, so you figured that he must have had some sort of transformation over the summer. 

That, or he was somehow cheating. 

Either way, Draco wasn't even coming in second in competitions that he should have been winning. He must not be focusing on the recipe, you thought - that was the only reason you could think of for him not to be doing things in his usual manner. 

He wasn't looking too keen either - his hair was messier than usual, and not in that purposeful way he sometimes wore it. He looked paler, his robes looked bigger on him, and there were bags under his eyes. 

So it was that Draco managed to successfully avoid you for the first three weeks of school.

Which was ludicrous. Because the rest of the school seemed to think that you two were still dating. 

Your room felt more lonely than ever - for the first time, you wished you had taken a double with Sadie or Tracey. The only company you had was Kaya. As much as you loved her, she could hardly make up for the absence of Draco in your bed. 

In fact, she was absent more often than not when you got home. She seemed to enjoy wandering around the dungeons while you were out at classes, which was all well and good, but having to go collect her from the boys’ dormitory hallway three times a week was a bit tedious. 

You suspected that Sebastian was luring her to his room with treats in an attempt to make her like him, but he denied everything. 

It was a particularly late night tonight - you had stayed up in the library finishing a Charms paper. By the time you got back to your room and saw the door ajar, you already knew what was happening.

You opened the door anyway, peering in, hoping to catch sight of a flash of white fur. Nothing. Groaning, you traipsed back down the stairs and did a quick survey of the common room. 

A couple of third years were eating something on one of the couches, and Montague was talking to some fifth year by the Wizard’s Chess tables, but no Kaya. 

You kept walking, entering the boys’ dorm’s hallway. 

“Kaya,” you called quietly, not wanting to walk too far into the boys’ territory. Thankfully, the cat moved into view. She walked towards you slowly - prancing, really, clearly self-satisfied. You wondered what she got up to down here. 

You scooped her up as she reached you, and she yowled in protest but relaxed almost immediately into your arms as you carried her up to bed. 

She lay down on your stomach, and you closed your eyes, trying to pretend like Draco was right next to you.

But, of course, he was down in his room. Avoiding you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see you tomorrow!


	43. Amortentia

Slughorn looked immensely satisfied as he unveiled a row of three different potions. You enjoyed his theatricality, and you were particularly happy today because Draco had shown up to class. 

Maybe it was pathetic that seeing him still made you feel fluttery, but you couldn’t help it. 

“Now this one here…” Slughorn said, gesturing towards a particularly captivating potion. 

Hermione Granger’s hand shot into the air - a surprise, you were sure, to nobody. 

“Yes, my dear?” Slughorn asked.  
“It’s Amortentia!” Hermione answered, moving closer to it. 

“Indeed it is,” Slughorn confirmed. “The most powerful love potion in the world. Of course, it can’t create actual love. Instead, it creates a powerful obsession or infatuation. Shops all over the country sell a more diluted version of it, of course…”

You thought of the shelf of love potions you had seen at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley.

“... but this is the real deal. Indeed, the most dangerous potion in this room.”

You caught Draco shooting a disbelieving look towards Blaise, who was sitting beside him. Slughorn saw him too.

“Oh, yes, Mr. Malfoy, the most dangerous by far. When you’ve lived as much as I have, you will learn not to underestimate the power of love. Now - does anyone know how to distinguish Amortentia from weaker love potions?”

Granger’s hand was well acquainted with the air. Slughorn didn’t seem to mind, calling on her again. 

“Well, real Amortentia has a different smell for each person, according to what attracts us. For example, to me…” she trailed off as she moved closer, “it smells of parchment, and freshly mown grass, and… well.”

She stepped back abruptly, looking at her feet. 

“Precisely. Twenty well-earned points to Gryffindor. Now, since you must all be curious, I will allow you each to smell the potion - if you would like, of course. Please form a line.”

Hermione stepped aside, and you stepped eagerly into line, wondering what you would smell. Perhaps pumpkin juice - but no, Simon and Sebastian’s little chugging contests had ruined that for you. 

Blaise and Draco laughed to themselves, not making any moves to get in line. Clearly, they thought the whole thing was ridiculous. 

By the time you reached the front of the line, you felt like the potion was drawing you in. You walked right up to it, inhaling deeply. 

It was divine. 

The smell of honey hit your nostrils first, sweet and warm, fresh. It mingled slowly with vanilla, and you felt its cool notes wash over you as the third scent joined in - the addicting sting of broom polish. You breathed in deeply again. 

“Next,” Slughorn said, breaking you from your stupor.

You went and sat back down, pondering. Honey. Vanilla. Broom polish. It was obvious, wasn't it?

You looked up to see that, at some point, Draco had gotten in line, even though Blaise hadn’t. He looked bored as he waited. You watched him closely as he reached the front of the line, leaning over the cauldron and inhaling. 

His face didn’t betray a thing, his expression staying infuriatingly blank. But Slughorn had to call out “next” twice before Draco broke away from the table with a little shake of his head, returning to his seat beside Blaise. 

You confided it all to Tracey that night in your room. She was on the floor, playing absentmindedly with Kaya. 

“Honey, vanilla, and broom polish,” she mused. “Sounds innocent enough to me. Sounds interesting, actually. Maybe I should’ve tried harder in Potions.”

You groaned, turning over in bed to face her. “It’s not innocent, Trace… it’s him.”  
“Who, Malfoy? How’s that?”

“Well, he smells sort of like vanilla all the time, for starters. And honeysweets have been a thing between us since third year - we used to have them all the time last year. They were always in his room. And the broom polish - well, that’s Quidditch, obviously. And who do I play Quidditch with? Well... not anymore, but you get the point.”

“Hmm,” Tracey mused, “well, sure, when you put it like that. But you played Quidditch and liked honeysweets before you met Malfoy. And vanilla… that’s a common scent?”

You nodded. Maybe she was right, but you couldn’t imagine your passing fancy for honeysweets manifesting in the smell of your Amortentia unless there was a different meaning attached to it. 

Tracey came and lay down beside you, Kaya jumping onto the bed after her. 

“Want me to stay with you tonight?” She asked gently. 

You shook your head. “You have your Herbology thing tomorrow.”  
“Oh, please, it’s just Herbology.”

You chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, Tracey. Thanks for the offer, though.”

She grabbed your hand and squeezed it, then got off your bed, making her way out of the room. Kaya jumped down, following her. She laughed as she reached the door, bending down to pet her. 

“Will you miss me, Kaya?” She crooned. Kaya purred in response.

As Tracey opened the door, Kaya darted through it, clearly intending to leave with her. 

“Unfaithful little creature,” you mumbled. Really, though, you thought it was quite cute that she had formed an attachment to your friends.

Tracey looked back at you, laughing. 

“Want to keep her for the night?” You asked.  
“Looks like she’s already wandered into my room,” Tracey responded, shrugging, “might as well.”

You waved her goodbye, turning over in your bed and closing your eyes as she closed your door. 

Honey, vanilla, broom polish. You wondered what he had smelled and briefly entertained the fantasy that it was something to do with you. 

Tracey knocked on your door again. She’d probably forgotten something or else was already tired of Kaya tearing around her room.

“What’s up, Trace?” You called. 

She answered by knocking again. Maybe she had accidentally locked the door behind her. You got up, noticing it was later than you had thought it was. The sky was black outside your window. 

You swung open your door. 

“What is it?” You started, but the words died on your lips. 

It wasn't Tracey. It was Draco. 

He didn’t wait for your permission. He stepped forcefully into your room, swinging the door shut unceremoniously behind him. You stood there, gaping, as he looked down at you. 

Then his lips slammed into yours. Forceful, unyielding. You gasped into his mouth, your hands instinctively jumping to his back, grabbing fistfuls of his robes. 

He tasted strongly of firewhiskey, and he kissed you for so long that you had to gasp for breath when he broke apart from you. 

“You’re drunk,” you breathed. 

But his lips were on yours again, and your hands curled around his neck. How many times had you thought of kissing him like this today alone? 

A million thoughts flew through your head at once - most of them something along the lines of _you should be angry_ or _you shouldn’t let him kiss you_ or _you should make him tell you what’s going on._

But they were all banished by the taste of him, the smell that you had ached for, had longed for, since the end of last year. Yes, there it was, the touch of vanilla. Intoxicating. He broke apart from you again, and your head cleared, if only marginally.

“You’re drunk,” you repeated. It was all you could think of to say, an excuse for why he was in your room. More than anything, it was a reminder to yourself that this could just be some drunken whim of his, something that would mean nothing after it was over. 

But that was never his way. 

You pushed your thoughts of anger, sadness, and a need for answers down as far as they could go in your mind. In their place, you felt an overwhelming sense of need, a lust for him tugging at your stomach, your hands pulling at him to get him closer to you. 

You landed on your bed, lips still connected. His hands had pulled off your shirt at some point, and now they were working at your bra, unclasping it with practiced ease and tossing it onto the ground.

He shrugged his trousers off, tossing them away too, then pulled off your pajama bottoms. He pressed against you, breathing hard, and you whimpered as his lips connected with your neck, sucking, teeth grazing your skin. You were sure he could feel your heart thundering. 

He moved down to your collarbones then, and you squeezed your eyes shut, hands wrapping around his head and pushing him further into your neck, tangling your hands in his hair. 

He pulled away from you after a while, hovering on top of you, staring at you. You kept one hand in his hair, gently stroking. The other hand moved downwards, circling his neck and traveling down his back until you reached the hem of his sweater, which was somehow still on his body. 

He stopped you, throwing your hand back onto the mattress. You blinked, confused, then tried again, reaching for the hem, trying to pull it up and off. 

“No,” he said. You realized it was the first word he had spoken to you all night - for three weeks. 

“What?” You asked, trying again. He batted your hand away. 

Was he suddenly self-conscious? He had always had a Seeker’s build, lean and muscular. Perhaps not being on the team and not being forced by Montague to do endless drills had softened his figure. 

“I don’t care,” you said, trying to communicate your thoughts to him. You just wanted - needed - his skin on yours, and this distraction was doing nothing to keep your doubts tucked away. 

He rolled over, off you, lying next to you on the bed and staring at the ceiling. 

“I don’t care,” you repeated, crawling on top of him, straddling him. “I want you.”

But he pushed your hand away again. You leaned down, kissing him forcefully. He let you, and after a couple of seconds, opened his mouth to let you in. His hands wrapped around your back, albeit reluctantly, pressing into your bare skin. You deepened the kiss, being more forceful, more assertive. 

Then you broke away, making eye contact with him as you went for the hem of his shirt once again. If that kiss hadn’t communicated the fact that you wanted him no matter what, you weren’t sure what would.

He put his hand on yours again. He looked almost fearful, which struck you as strange. 

But he didn’t try to stop you this time. He kept his hand on top of yours as you peeled his sweater off. His left arm was still tucked behind your back. You surveyed his torso quickly - nothing seemed to have changed much from what you remembered of him. And you remembered him in perfect detail. 

You leaned into him, kissing him again, and he made a noise against your lips that sounded almost sad. You broke apart, confused. 

He looked distressed. It was written all over his face, not bothering to hide it. 

“What’s going on?” You whispered, “you’re acting strange.”

Stranger than usual. Stranger than ignoring you for the entire summer. 

Slowly, he took his left arm out from around your back, pulling it back towards his chest.

“I don’t understand,” you said softly, the undertones of your voice begging him to help you - to tell you what was wrong. Your hands rested on his waist, lying comfortably on his warm skin. 

You glanced down at his left arm, which he had laid across his chest, then back up at his face. 

Then your eyes caught up with your brain. 

Heart thundering, you reached down and grabbed it, bringing it up into the moonlight and turning it over. You almost couldn’t believe it at first. There, writhing nightmarishly on his forearm, was the Dark Mark. 

You dropped his arm as though you had been stung, rocketing off him. Your jaw dropped, but no sound came out. He tucked his arm back into his side, squeezing his eyes shut as if everything would just go away if he couldn’t see it. 

The Dark Mark. But that meant - no. There was no way. 

“What -” you heard your voice say, and Draco opened his eyes slowly, reluctantly, not looking at you. 

“What have you done?” you finally choked out.

Part of you wanted to grab his arm again, to pull it to you and confirm that you had actually seen the Dark Mark stamped onto his forearm. But the other part of you felt sick, scared, and never wanted to see anything resembling it ever again. 

As the two sides battled for dominance, you saw Draco’s right hand move ever so slightly out of the corner of your eye. 

And it was a good thing you were watching, because suddenly he had his wand in hand and was pointing it directly at you. Your mouth opened, letting out a surprised, fearful sound. Instinctively, you brought your hands up in front of you, as if they could shield you from his wand.

“Don’t hurt me,” you breathed out. “Please.”

You could think of no other reason for him to be in your bed after three weeks of pretending you didn’t exist. It all made sense now, you thought, a sick feeling running through your body. He must have been avoiding you because he knew he would have to kill you. 

You wondered why Voldemort had it out for you - your parents, it must be, he had found them. You knew how he punished the people who refused to join him; by setting werewolves and worse on their children. It was fitting in a cruel sort of way that he would send Draco after you. 

But Draco lowered his wand slightly. You followed suit, dropping your hands enough to see his face. Your wide eyes flicked over him, searching his face for any hint of malice, any hint of _anything._

“I wasn't going to hurt you,” he breathed. He reached out for you with the hand that wasn't holding his wand. His left hand. The Dark Mark flashed quickly through the air, contorting on his forearm. You recoiled from it. He winced upon seeing your expression, glancing down at it and quickly pulling it away from you, tucking it back into his side. 

“I wasn't going to hurt you,” he repeated.

“Then what were you doing with your wand?” You asked. You grabbed the blankets, pulling them up to cover your naked torso. Your heart was pounding just as quickly as it had been only minutes ago, but now for a very different reason. 

He took a couple of breaths. Your eyes scanned across the room, trying to figure out where you had dropped your wand earlier. 

“I was going to...” Draco started softly, and your eyes snapped back to him, wary. “I was going to obliviate you.” 

He spoke so quietly, so quickly, that you weren’t sure you heard him right for a second. 

“Obliviate me?”  
“Yeah. Can’t have you remembering… any of this.”

You stared at him, trying to figure out what exactly was going through his head. You scolded yourself. It didn’t matter - he was a Death Eater now. The thought was terrifying. It said all you needed to know about his mind.

A thought struck you suddenly, a horrifying possibility that immediately shrouded everything else in your head.

“Have you obliviated me before?” You breathed, your hands gripping your blankets in fists. The cold air spread across your bare back, raising goosebumps on your shoulders.

He closed his eyes again, lowering his wand so much that it touched your blankets. Vulnerable. If you had your wand, you could easily disarm him right now and he wouldn’t even see it coming.

“Have you?” You asked, more insistent. 

He kept his eyes determinedly close as he moved his head slowly, almost imperceptibly. But it was a nod.

“How many times?”

He opened his eyes now. The moonlight struck them. He was otherworldly, lying in your bed. You felt the familiar tug at your chest, the pull in your stomach. You squeezed your nail into your palm. To think about how you loved him after he had just revealed himself to be a Death Eater and admitted to routinely obliviating you. Pathetic.

“I don’t know,” he said, “I… I come up here sometimes.”  
“So we’ve -”  
“We never get that far once you take my shirt off, no.”

“Then you obliviate me?”  
“Can’t have you running your mouth to your pathetic fucking friends.”

You would have bristled more at his insult, but your mind was otherwise occupied by the fact that this exact situation must have occurred before. You just couldn’t remember it because he had somehow obliviated you before you could stop him. 

“I’ve never _run my mouth_ about you to anyone,” you hissed, defensive. “And why do you even come up here if you’re so afraid of me talking?”

“I need - something.”  
“Something,” you repeated, incredulous, “and what does that mean?”

“You’re wearing the necklace,” he said by way of answering. You didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed it before - its silver scales stood out on your skin, especially when you weren’t wearing any clothes. But you didn’t care to play his translation games tonight.

“The necklace is the last thing on my mind right now,” you whispered, your eyes suddenly burning with the threat of tears. He had tucked his left arm away, but you thought you could see a bit of the black snake even so - the mark that you had been taught to instinctively fear and recoil from since you could remember.

“You took the Mark,” you choked out, a tear spilling down your cheek.

It was common knowledge in the wizarding world, especially among pureblood families, that Lucius Malfoy had the Dark Mark on his arm. Even after Voldemort was ostensibly defeated, even after he had claimed to have been under the Imperius curse - there was no way to remove it, to make it fade. 

Draco’s arm would look like that forever. 

“Yeah, I took it. My father’s in prison. My mother’s basically in prison too, at the Manor. He lives there now, you know. Uses it as his base.”

You didn’t bother to ask who _he_ was. 

His eyes flicked towards you for the first time in a while. He was paler than usual, you noticed, or perhaps that was just the moonlight—a strange combination of deeply haunted and simply distant.

He went for his wand again, but this time his hand was slower, as if he wanted you to see, to stop him. You did. Your hand shot out, snatching it out of his loose grip. 

“I won’t let you obliviate me.”  
“You have to.”  
“I won’t.”

He groaned in hopeless frustration.

“I won’t tell,” you said, aware that that made you no better than him, not really. But what was the alternative - forgetting this had even happened in the first place?

“Of course you will,” he whispered, voice sounding weak.

“When have I ever told before?” You asked. “I haven’t. Not ever. And you still find ways to distrust me.”  
“I don’t trust anyone,” he replied.

You would have laughed - it sounded like something a teenager would spout to their parents in hopes of seeming dark and rebellious - but his expression was genuinely dark, deadly serious.

“You won’t obliviate me. You can’t,” you said. You knew he wouldn’t. He just needed an excuse, someone to blame for that fact. You would play the part, would play any part you needed to stop him. 

“You act like you don’t have me,” you heard your voice say. Draco looked as surprised to hear it as you were surprised to have said it. “You do.”

He got up from your bed, putting his sweater back on first to cover up the Mark. Then his trousers. He ran a hand through his hair. 

Then he looked back at you, gazing into your eyes for a second. He nodded. 

“Not a word to anyone,” he said. You nodded your agreement, pushing his wand across the bed towards him. He grabbed it with his right hand, still keeping his left arm slightly behind him, in the shadows.

He walked towards the door. You were still crying, the tears pooling in your eyes, slightly blurring your vision. 

You felt an overwhelming need to yell at him, to confront him for everything he had ever done to you, to make him tell you whether or not he wanted that mark on his arm, to break up with him once and for all so that there would be no confusion between you for the first time in years.

You felt a simultaneous need to beg him to stay with you, to breathe him in, to convince him that things would work out—the way you used to do all the time.

“It smelled of you,” you said. “My Amortentia. It was you.”

He didn’t turn around, but paused for a second in your doorway.

Then he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> men with tattoos...
> 
> thank you all for reading! I can't wait to see what you think about this chapter :) one of my favorites to write for sure!


	44. Occlumency

It was late at night, almost curfew, but you didn’t feel like going back to your room. Your bed had become associated with Draco, and now Draco had become associated with the Dark Mark. 

Your head spun when you thought about it. You reflected on how you felt reading the articles in the _Daily Prophet_ that had proclaimed Harry the “Chosen One.” You found it ridiculous and unfair to place the burden of defeating the strongest dark wizard of all time on a nineteen-year-old’s shoulders - even one as talented as Harry. 

Voldemort, as it seemed, had done just that. To become a Death Eater was the darkest rite of passage you could imagine, a position reserved for only his most ardent followers. Even Draco’s mother had never been branded. 

So to think that he was carrying that weight around on his arm was horrifying. 

You wondered how it had happened, whether or not he had resisted. Perhaps his pride, those undertones in his personality that tended towards superiority and bullying, had led him to accept it - maybe he had even sought it out. 

But even if that was true, you thought that could not be the whole story. Maybe it was wishful thinking - no, it _was_ wishful thinking, but you wanted to believe that he didn’t want the mark, or that he at least didn’t want it anymore.

That he had taken it not to please the Dark Lord and aid in the imposition of a regime of blood purism and terror, but because he wanted to protect himself and his family. A selfish motive, to be sure, but one that you could understand.

_My father’s in prison. My mother’s basically in prison, too._

He knew how you felt about blood purist ideals. Your thoughts on the matter had led to a fair few arguments while you were together. So for him to come to your room - multiple times, even if you could only remember one… you hoped that it spoke to some sort of resistance. 

You remembered how you had felt that day in Umbridge’s office, trying to decide whether to keep carving _I must not tell lies_ into your skin or give up the DA. It had felt like an impossible choice, but you had still chosen to protect the group over yourself. 

On the surface, it hadn’t seemed very Slytherin of you. But perhaps, in a greater sense, it was. Maybe the cold logic of self-preservation ingrained in you - ingrained in all Slytherins by nature - had extended itself to your friends as they had become an irreplaceable part of you. 

You could not imagine Draco feeling that way towards anyone besides his parents. Once, you would have entertained the idea that he could feel that way towards you, too, but in the cold light of the hallways, the thought seemed foolish.

It seemed as if the whole castle was empty at this time of night. Most people were going back to their common rooms long before curfew, no longer lingering in the corridors, the Great Hall, or the library. 

You kept your wand at your side, but, in truth, you couldn’t bring yourself to be truly worried. Hogwarts still seemed safe, impenetrable to the dark forces brewing outside the walls. 

Though Draco was a dark force _within_ the walls. 

You were startled out of your thoughts by a noise coming from the corridor to your right. Gripping your wand tighter, you turned to walk down it. You wouldn’t have hesitated to turn tail and run back to the common room normally, but the noise sounded strange, almost as if -

It echoed again. Yes, someone was crying. 

“Don’t cry…” a voice trilled softly, and you stopped short. 

Both the voice and the cries were coming from the bathroom. You turned to it, taking a couple of steps towards the door. _Surely_ someone wasn't crying to Moaning Myrtle. 

“You’ll work it out. You’ve already worked so much out…” The ghost spoke in her lilting, pouty tones.  
“You don’t understand!” A second voice yelled back, laden with tears. 

Your jaw dropped, and you froze steps away from the door. You could recognize that voice anywhere. 

Your feet propelled you forward before you could think of what to do, and you burst into the bathroom to see Draco’s form slumped over the sinks, Myrtle hovering over him. 

Both their heads whipped towards you, and Draco drew his wand instinctively. 

“It’s me,” you said - too obvious, but it was the only thing you could think to say.

He lowered his wand. Myrtle glided closer to him, fixing you with a glare. Draco’s face was twisted. It struck you with a force that you had never seen him cry. You had seen him on the verge of tears, felt them in your hair that night last year when he had come back to the castle, but you had never seen them on his face. 

You wanted to run to him, to put your arms around him, to do whatever you needed to do to stop him crying, but the way he and Myrtle were looking at you and the fact that his sleeves were rolled up, revealing the mark on his forearm, made you stay still, speechless.

“What are you doing here?” Draco asked, his voice remarkably strong for being in tears.

“I heard you… I heard -” you cut yourself off, looking up at Myrtle.  
“Yes,” she said, tone hardening, “get out. We don’t want you here.”

You took a step forward, unwilling to leave. You felt your chest contract as Draco looked away from you, the moon catching his tears in its light. 

“No,” you said, moving closer to him. “No, I won’t leave.”

You kept moving, willing yourself to ignore Myrtle’s glare and just focus on Draco. You touched his arm - his right arm, unmarked - and he receded from you. 

You blinked. Myrtle made a sound that was adjacent to a snarl. 

“Please, I want to help you,” you said, reaching out for his arm again. He let you touch him, still regarding you warily.   
“No, you don’t,” he said.

You moved your hand to his waist. He let you, opening up his body to you slightly so that you could hook your other hand around his back, holding him loosely. 

“I do. I promise I do,” you said. 

Then, quick as a bullet, his wand was out again.

 _“Legilimens,”_ he whispered, and you receded into your mind. 

It was a rainy day, and you were sitting in your pajamas at the table. Your mother and father were flitting in and out of the kitchen as you ate.

“Owl for you,” your mother said, and you grabbed the letter in anticipation. Draco had promised you he would write, after all. It had only been three weeks since school got out, and you were already missing him. Your hand came up to rest on the silver necklace as you opened the letter. 

You immediately recognized Sadie’s looping, elegant handwriting. You felt a little pang, then chastised yourself - you should be as excited to receive a letter from Sadie as you would a letter from Draco. Besides, his letters would come. 

You couldn’t help but think of Draco as you took your new broom for a spin out in the countryside. You remembered that rainy day at tryouts last year when he had kissed you in front of everyone, smoothing your wet hair out of your face. 

Or your first match on the team, when he caught the Snitch and whispered in your ear that he almost hadn’t because he was getting distracted by you. 

Or the day when you two raced to the Whomping Willow, and _I love you_ had tumbled out of your mouth, and how you realized how much you meant it as he reacted to your words. And later, rocketing off the Astronomy tower and speeding off into the night. 

You touched down onto the dewy morning grass, making your way back up to your doorstep. It had been a month since school’s end, and you still hadn’t received any word from Draco at all. You felt a pang in your chest when you thought about it too much. 

Your father slammed the _Daily Prophet_ down onto the counter, mumbling something that you couldn’t quite catch, but you were sure you heard the word “Malfoy” in it. 

“What?”  
“I said Lucius Malfoy is officially on trial. He deserves it, the liar. I’ve been saying for years that there was no way he was Imperiused, not him.”

You picked up the paper, scanning it for any mention of Draco’s name. You caught it in a little blurb at the end of the article - “Malfoy and his wife, Narcissa Malfoy (neé Black) share one son, Draco, who will be a sixth-year student at Hogwarts School in the fall.”

You found yourself rereading the arbitrary sentence a few times, staring at his name in little black letters.

Your mother and father were having a hushed conversation in the hallway when you got back from your morning fly. They had informed you last week that they would be going into hiding while you were at school, and your days as of late had consisted of walking around the house like a shadow as they whispered about plans and possibilities.

“(Y/N),” your father said as you propped your broom up by the door, “please don’t leave the house without us anymore.”

You looked up, confused. 

“It’s dangerous, love,” your mother said, “we were worried.”

“Any owls for me?” You asked, still desperately hoping.  
“No,” your mother replied. 

It was a windy morning in Diagon Alley, and a newspaper flipped around in the gales and slapped against your leg. You pulled it up, catching Draco’s distant eyes as his picture moved out of the courtroom. 

You felt your heart ache, wanting more than anything to forgive him.

“Keep up,” your father said. 

You stood in the hallways, watching Draco walk by. Your first desperate thought was to go after him, grab him, make him talk to you, but you thought better of it. He had made his allegiances this year all too clear. He hadn’t even bothered to show up to Transfiguration this morning. 

Sebastian scoffed as he walked away. “The git. He never deserved you.”

You looked back down at the paper you had just started writing, all the productivity draining out of you as you pictured him getting further and further down the hallway, further and further away from you. 

“Get out of my head!” You heard yourself yell, and you were back in the bathroom, your hands over your ears. 

Draco lowered his wand, and your blood boiled. 

“Get out of my head,” you repeated, voice lower, simmering with rage.

“I had to see if you were lying,” Draco replied darkly.   
You stepped back from him. “I suppose you couldn’t have just asked me.”

He shook his head. “No. You could be lying. You could be - you could be working for Potter, telling him everything.”  
“If I were _working for Potter,_ which is ridiculous anyway, he would already know about...”

You gestured at the mark on his arm. 

He was silent, searching you. You recalled the memories that had just flashed through your consciousness - the memories he had _seen._

“Pathetic, aren’t I?” You said, a hard edge to your tone, daring him to tell you so. 

But he didn’t. His eyes stayed on yours, watching you closely. 

“Pathetic?” He asked after a while.  
“Yeah. Pining after you while you can’t even bother to write? While you can’t even bother to look in my direction?”

“What did you expect me to do, send you an owl with a picture of the Dark Mark in it?” His voice took on a scornful tone.   
“I expected you to do _something._ You promised me you would.”

“I promised you something more important.”  
“What?”  
“That I wouldn’t let you get involved.”

Your mind reeled, swirling with contradictory emotions. Anger at him for thinking he could just go into your head, look through your memories. Fear that he _would_ involve you, that you would somehow become a part of whatever he was doing. Even greater fear that he would do the opposite - push you away, uninvolve you altogether. And, there it was, the little tug at your stomach. 

“So you’re going to push me away.” You were embarrassed by the weak quality of your voice. 

He turned away from you for a second, then turned back, bringing his left arm into the light of the moon—the Dark Mark in full focus. 

You looked away instinctively, taking a step back. When you looked back up, he was shaking his head at you.

“Exactly. You’re scared of me. That’s… that’s how it should be. Now go to bed.”

For a second, you wanted to protest, to tell him that you were scared of the mark, not of him. But it seemed almost silly. The mark was branded on his skin now. It _was_ him, or at least was the person he had to be. 

“Go,” he said again, his voice utterly devoid of tears now - devoid of any emotion. 

So you went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he really be in those memories...


	45. Late Practice

It was not an easy practice.

It wasn't raining exactly, but it wasn't clear skies, either - it was sort of misting, forming a hazy, humid atmosphere that would have been more at home in the early morning. 

Montague was running practice for an extra hour on Wednesdays this year, which also happened to be the day you had the most classes, including your most challenging subject - Transfiguration. 

You expected Montague was doing longer practices for Harper’s benefit. He wasn't a bad Seeker, exactly - he had no trouble spotting the Snitch - but he was remarkably slow on his broom, almost as bad as Goyle, and he had fumbled it twice now. 

Thus, most of your practices ended with Montague having loud words with Harper in front of the whole team. Personally, you weren’t sure how much this was impacting Harper. If anything, he was playing more sloppily tonight than he had been during Monday’s practice. 

“Harper!” Montague shouted from across the pitch, his figure blurred in the mist, “If _I_ can see the bloody Snitch right now, you should too!”

Harper took off immediately, but you didn’t get the impression that he had any idea what he was doing. 

“(Y/L/N), look sharp!” Pucey shouted, and you turned just in time to catch the Quaffle as it hurtled through the air towards you. You took a short dive, preferring to fly near the ground where the precipitation seemed to be having the least effect. 

The goalposts revealed themselves, and you shot back up, aiming at the center post. Bletchley darted out and blocked your shot.

“That should’ve been a pass,” Montague said from above you, and you nodded, zipping back towards the center of the pitch as Bletchley tossed the Quaffle back out at Montague. 

“I caught it!” You heard Harper call from somewhere above you. You looked up to see where he was, but the mist had turned into a bit of a drizzle, and you didn’t want to incline your face directly into the sky. 

“Then release it and do it again!” Montague shouted, then, upon seeing Pucey fly up, “oi! Get to the center of the pitch, you dimwit!”

Pucey chuckled and flew off. You were hot on his heels. 

Montague’s intensity tonight seemed more pissed off than playful. He tossed you the Quaffle as you formed up at the center of the pitch. 

“Alright, we’re running the third play, got it?” He shouted, and everyone nodded.

The third play involved you flying high above the pitch, which you resented as the rain got heavier and heavier. As you saw the goalposts, you dove quickly, doing a quick handoff to Pucey on your way down and then going to your position by the right goal post. 

Pucey tossed it to Montague, who threw it to you. Bletchley came up to block the right post, but you tossed it right back to Montague, who scored quickly on the now unguarded left hoop. 

“Nice draw, (Y/N). Rerun it!”

By the time you left the broom shed, your legs were aching from having run all of Montague’s drills at least twice, and your ears were ringing from the dressing down he had given you as you all had wrung out your hair and your uniforms. 

“We have two weeks until our first match - Hufflepuff, and if we don’t beat them we’re doing an hour later on Mondays, too. Understand?”

You had all nodded solemnly. 

“Bletchley, you’re too easy to draw out; stop sticking so close to the goal. Pucey, you need to be faster on the reset after we score. (Y/L/N), your passes are distracted. And Crabbe, Goyle - you two are coming to the pitch tomorrow afternoon and running extra drills with me.”

“We can’t,” Crabbe piped up, prolonging Montague’s anti-pep talk. 

You let yourself zone out as he yelled at Crabbe and Goyle. You supposed you _were_ a bit distracted, in truth. 

How could you not be? Draco was your every other thought lately. 

As much as the Dark Mark repulsed you, you kept going over what he had said to Myrtle in the bathroom before he knew you were listening - how he had been _crying,_ actually crying. 

He had come to your room, too, clearly wanting to be with you. He had opened to you slightly in the bathroom as if he wanted to let you in. And - perhaps most tellingly, even though the fact that he had done it was enraging - he had gone through your head. The memories he had looked for, had found, were ones of you simply missing him, thinking of him, feeling lonely without him. 

He had sought those memories out. He wanted to know whether your words to him had been empty or not, and, clearly, they hadn’t been. 

You wanted him still. It made your chest compress when you saw him looking distant as he so often did these days despite his near-constant company of Pansy, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle. 

And sometimes, when he turned the corner or walked into a classroom in the morning… even though he looked tired and worn, there was still a captivating beauty to him. 

You still loved him. Perhaps it was selfish - it was definitely wrong. But you did. 

And now that he had been in your head, he knew that you had wanted him all summer, all this year, still wanted him now. 

Montague clapped in front of your face. 

“(Y/L/N), what did I just say?”

You wracked your brain, trying to pull his recent words from your subconscious. 

“Something to Crabbe and Goyle?”  
“That was about two full minutes ago. Did I not _just tell you_ that you’re distracted?”  
“Yeah,” you returned sullenly. 

He straightened, shaking his head. 

“Well, it’s affecting your playing. So whatever it is, fix it.”

You nodded, but you weren’t sure this particular situation could be fixed at all. 

You noticed that everyone else had been putting their brooms up while Montague talked, leaving you the only person still holding yours. You got up quickly, busying yourself with a bit of polish as you hung it up in its place. 

You went to the bathroom, changing from your damp uniform to your dry robes, and when you came back out, Montague was the only one left. He always gave his broom a good polish after practice when he was angry. 

He walked back to the common room with you - technically, you weren’t allowed outside of the castle alone, so you supposed it was a good thing, even though you felt a bit mutinous at the minute. 

It was lucky he was with you, though, because the password to the dungeons had changed this morning and you had forgotten to check the wall before you left for breakfast.

“Moonstone,” Montague barked.

You trailed him down the short passage into the common room, staring at your shoes as you walked. You must look a bit strange, you thought - you were wearing your robes with your Quidditch boots, and your hair was in that weird state between dry and wet where it was usually apt to act up. 

You rammed directly into Montague as he stopped suddenly at the end of the corridor.

He turned around, blocking the entrance to the common room. The expression on his face was one that you were used to seeing on him when someone injured themselves right before a match - a sort of mix of surprise and dread.

“What?” You asked, and his eyes darted back and forth as if desperately trying to think of something to say. 

“You’re blocking the passage.”  
“Er…” he said, “I think you left something on the pitch.”

You were thoroughly confused now. 

“What?” You asked.  
“Your - your polish. You shouldn’t leave it out in the shed. It’ll congeal.”  
“Didn’t you leave yours in the shed? You’re making no sense.”

You tried to shove past him, but he put his arm out.

“I know I did - it was a mistake. We should go back and get them.”  
“Have you been Confunded? I’m not going back outside; it’ll start raining again in a second.”

You tried to shove past him again, and again he blocked you. His eyes flicked down to your necklace, wincing.

“Let me by. What are you doing?”

Montague looked at the low ceiling of the passage as if trying to think of what to do. Taking him by surprise, you successfully pushed him aside, walking down the couple of steps into the common room and turning to look back at him. 

“Are you alright, Montague?” You asked. But his eyes weren’t on you - they were fixed on something else entirely.

You turned around. 

His hair caught your attention first, as it had done since first year. Draco was lounging on one of the couches, sitting very close to someone, clearly talking, though you couldn’t make out his words.

You recognized the other figure quite quickly. Short brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was lying back against the arm of the couch, her hand lazily resting atop it. She said something that you couldn’t hear.

Draco chuckled. You felt your blood boil. It was the first time you had seen him smile since you had come back to school, and it was over Pansy Parkinson. His hand was on her thigh, traveling upwards. Their legs were intertwined. 

Then, as if in slow-motion, he leaned into her. 

The hand she had been keeping on the back of the couch dropped to wrap around his shoulders and his hand came up to rest on her waist as they kissed.

You felt your heart pounding wildly. Your hands clenched into fists immediately, and you felt a sort of pain in your chest as you waited for them to break apart, frozen in place. 

It took them a while to break the kiss, by which time you had quickly cycled from shock to sadness to anger, then back to sadness. You felt tears threaten your eyes. The fact that Montague was behind you, had clearly been trying to prevent you from seeing this whole scene, made your stomach sting with embarrassment. 

Finally, Draco pulled off her. He grinned at her, leaned it to whisper something in her ear. As he moved his head back out, he bit at her neck. You stifled a little cry of distress. 

She started talking, and he looked up - making, to your surprise and horror, direct eye contact with you. 

He didn’t seem surprised to see you. He didn’t seem much of anything. You might have expected some regret, some embarrassment, some apologeticness. Or maybe a bit of meanness, a bit of condescension. 

But he was just carefully blank. 

Pansy’s right hand migrated to his thigh, and his hand was still resting on her waist. His eyes left yours, and he moved closer to her. They kissed again. 

You turned away this time, looking at the wall, trying to collect yourself. 

“(Y/L/N),” you heard Montague hiss, but you didn’t want to turn to him in case your eyes betrayed that you were hurt. 

He came up to you anyway. “Are you alright?” He said searchingly. You nodded in his general direction. 

“Okay, because I wouldn’t want this to affect your playing, you know - without you, the team is sort of…”

You assumed he kept talking about Quidditch, but you tuned him out, nodding towards him again before speeding up the stairs to your room. 

To make a bad night worse, Kaya had escaped your room again. There was no way you were going back down to the common room, though, so you just kept your door open, hoping she would wander back in during the night. 

You threw your wand down on your bedside table, sitting on the edge of your bed and focusing all your attention on untying your boots. As soon as they were off your feet, your thoughts returned fully to replaying Pansy and Draco kissing.

Your shoulders shook as you tried to keep your tears out of your eyes, but at some point you just let it go - who were you hiding them from, anyway?

You lay back, not bothering to take off your robes, crying as noiselessly as possible in fear of the sound escaping through your open door. 

As your tears eventually dried up - or at least stopped for the moment - your mind turned to what you would do next. 

You had to do _something,_ of course. It wouldn’t do to wallow in self-pity. 

Maybe you should throw a good punch at Pansy, but that seemed juvenile and like an admittance that she had won after all. Perhaps you should throw a good punch at Draco, but the thought of getting near his face ever again filled you with potent anger and dread. 

Maybe you should do what you had done at the Yule Ball - start hooking up with someone else in front of his face. You considered this possibility for the longest, but nobody came to mind. 

Theo was out, obviously. Sebastian could probably be convinced to do it if it would make Draco mad, but you couldn’t picture either of you taking it seriously enough to make it seem like you were actually in a relationship. 

You considered Montague, but his interest in you seemed to be purely based on your Quidditch abilities. There was Pucey and Bletchley, too, but you didn’t want to mess up the team’s chemistry - and they had always been more brothers to you than anything else. 

Blaise wouldn’t get near you knowing your family was blood traitors, and Crabbe and Goyle were entirely out of the question. 

You could try for one of the less well-known boys in your year, but that just seemed pathetic. You could try for a boy in a different house, too, but most of them wouldn’t be caught with a Slytherin, and Draco would probably just make fun of you anyway. 

Maybe the problem was that, with the way he had kissed Pansy, how little he seemed to care that you saw it… he wouldn’t care whatever you did. 

Or maybe the reason you couldn’t picture yourself with any of these boys was that you could only really imagine yourself with one boy these days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #dracoisoverparty


	46. The Other Necklace

The first trip into Hogsmeade was nothing short of terrible. 

Tracey and Michael were going to Madam Puddifoot’s together, which everyone had made fun of her for, and Sebastian and Simon were staying at school, preferring to get sleep in where they could what with the more demanding schedule of sixth year. 

That just left you and Sadie. The air had taken on a distinct chill as September drew to a close. You grabbed a sweater from your room, meeting Sadie in the hallway and chatting to her as you walked down into the common room. 

The words came less easily when you saw Pansy and Draco together in the common room. They weren’t kissing, not this time, but she was lying down with her head in his lap. You couldn’t see his face, as he was turned towards the fire, but you could imagine his exact expression.

“If it makes you feel any better, he’s got detention with McGonagall while we’re in Hogsmeade,” Sadie said, dragging you away from the scene.  
“Why?” You wondered.  
“She said he’s missed too many assignments to let go. I overheard them in the halls the other day.”

The thought did not make you feel better. It just cemented the fact that something was seriously wrong with Draco. But, of course, there must be something wrong with him anyway if he was willing to get back with Pansy. And you shouldn’t care about him anymore.

Unfortunately, you found yourself still caring quite a lot. In the past week since you had seen him kissing Pansy, he seemed to have lost a significant amount of weight. He was paler - Sebastian had remarked that his skin looked grayish, another sentiment that was supposed to make you feel better but instead made you feel worse. And the bags under his eyes had become more and more pronounced. 

As you and Sadie made your way out of the castle, you wrapped your scarf tighter around your neck, the green and white stripes flapping in the wind. 

“You still like him,” Sadie said from next to you, and you turned to see her looking at you with a kind, if not pitying expression.

“Of course I don’t,” you muttered.

She reached out and grabbed your hand. “(Y/N)... it’s obvious to everyone except Simon that you do. And he’s dense about these things.”

You ended up at the Three Broomsticks in a corner booth, warming up. 

“I guess I’ve just been on edge all summer,” you were saying, trying to justify the fact that you were acting strange while trying to make it seem like that behavior was not down to Draco.

“Me too,” she nodded, “my parents leaving the country and all.”

Her parents, like yours, had gone into hiding. Her dad was a muggle, and her mum was a Hufflepuff. You sometimes wondered how they had given birth to the witty, ambitious, rule-bending Sadie. 

“It’s hard,” she said, looking down at her feet. “And Simon - well, he doesn’t understand, as much as he tries to. His family’s all Ministry, so they get special protection.”

You nodded. “Just thinking about the fact that I don’t know where they are… that they could be in real danger and I would never know until it was too late,” you murmured, voicing your quietest fears. 

She took your hand again. 

“You and I are resourceful,” she said, “look at us. We always have been.”  
“Things will work out,” you agreed. 

You had lost count of how many times you had said some version of _things will work out_ to people over the years, how many times you had repeated it in your head. So far, things had decidedly not worked out. 

You and Sadie left the Three Broomsticks, meandering down the streets. 

“Oh,” she said, “I meant to go into Dervish and Banges and get some new self-inking quills.”  
“I’ll come with you,” you nodded.

You loved stores like these, treasure troves of magical objects just waiting to be discovered. As Sadie shopped around, your eyes fell on a display of necklaces. 

Instinctively, your hands went to your neck, fingering the necklace Draco had bought you here last year. 

Sadie caught you in the act as she walked away from the till. 

“That’s how I know, you know,” she said gently as you left the shop.  
“What?”  
“How I know you aren’t over him. You’re still wearing the necklace.”  
“I just like how it looks.”

She paused in the streets, raising her eyebrows at you. For a second, you thought of telling her everything. But you couldn’t. 

“I don’t know how I feel about him anymore,” you offered instead, which was the truth. 

She hugged you tightly, and, surprised, you wrapped your arms around her, too. 

“Well, no matter how you feel,” she said, taking your arm and steering you back towards the castle, “you know you always have us. So stop pushing us away.”

You squeezed her hand. It wasn't lost on you that this was exactly what you had said to Draco, how much you longed for him to just believe you. 

The image of him kissing Pansy swam into your mind. Maybe you _should_ take off the necklace. It would send a message to him, if nothing else. 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked a couple of paces in front of you, Katie Bell and another Gryffindor girl in front of them. 

You briefly wondered what it would be like to be part of their little trio. To be adored by the wizarding world at large, to stand up for what’s right with no hesitation, to not have a morality crisis every day. It would be nice, you thought. But you wouldn’t give up your friends for anything. 

Katie Bell and her friend looked like they were arguing. 

“Are Katie and Sebastian still hooking up?” Sadie asked you, and you shrugged.   
“If I had to guess, no. Sebastian’s probably gotten bored of her by now.”

Oh, to be one of Sebastian’s girls, flitting in and out of the edges of his life. There were never any false pretenses there. At least you would know what you were getting yourself into. You snorted at the thought of actually hooking up with Sebastian. 

“What’s funny?” Sadie asked, and you turned to tell her when you heard a blood-curdling scream. 

You whipped your head around to see Katie Bell suspended in midair, arms thrown behind her with an ominous grace. Her friend was grabbing at her, pulling her down, but she didn’t seem to budge. 

All at once, she collapsed. You turned to Sadie, eyes wide, as Hagrid came up onto the scene, scooping her up, and the trio started questioning her friend. 

You and Sadie grew closer, staring at the package she had been carrying, which was now torn open and sodden on the ground. A necklace stuck out of the crude packaging, and Ron moved towards it. Harry grabbed his arm. 

_“Don’t touch it!”_

Your brows furrowed as you looked at it further, a memory scratching at the back of your head. 

“I think I saw that at Borgin and Burkes before term…” Sadie said softly, and you placed it immediately. Yes, you had seen the necklace there too when your family had gone to collect the parchments. 

Your hand came up to touch your necklace, your mind immediately jumping to a very dark conclusion. 

You had to retell the tale twice - once for Simon and Sebastian, who were still drowsy with sleep when you returned to the castle, and the second time once Tracey got back from the village. 

“So she touched the necklace, then?” Simon asked.

You nodded.

“It must’ve been cursed. Lucky she didn’t grab it or anything… seems powerful enough to seriously hurt her - kill her, even.”  
“It might still. She’s at St. Mungo’s now,” Sadie supplied. 

Tracey considered. “But why on earth would someone give Katie Bell a cursed necklace? I thought people liked her.”

Sebastian put his hands up. “It wasn't me. I bear her no ill will, despite the fact that we’ve gone our separate ways.”

Sadie and Simon chuckled, and Tracey rolled her eyes theatrically, but your thoughts were elsewhere. Specifically on the _who would give Katie that necklace_ piece of the puzzle. 

“Well, how was the castle, boys?”  
“I dunno. Slept through it.”  
“No surprises there, then.”

The rest of your friends fell into their easy banter, and you tried your best to join in, remembering Sadie’s comment about how none of them wanted you to push them away. 

You wandered up to your room, watching the moon as its rays filtered through the lake. You sighed as you entered your room. Kaya, of course, was not there. You made your way back down to the common room. 

She wandered out of the boys’ dorm’s hallway again. You scooped her up, running her back up the stairs and making sure your door was firmly shut. Kaya ran around the room, batting at your cushions as you changed out of your robes and put your hair up. 

As you settled into your blankets, she settled too, vaulting up onto your bed and curling up by your feet. You breathed out, staring up at the ceiling. 

You drifted off. Asleep, you didn’t notice your necklace growing hotter around your neck, burning at your skin. Your sleeping form shifted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some extra plot before y/n fucks draco up


	47. Burning

The necklace kept burning, that night and the next, and the next after that, too, but you were always too deep in sleep to notice it against your neck. 

It had been a week since Draco and Pansy had kissed. By all accounts, they were back together - your accounts being Simon overhearing Blaise talking about it in the common room the other day. 

You hadn’t spoken to Draco since. You had been trying to avoid him altogether, thinking that it would help you get over him quicker. So far, that hadn’t worked, but you were still holding out hope. 

Your days sunk into a pattern. 

Mondays and Wednesdays were Quidditch practice. You had won against Hufflepuff last week, but by a small enough margin that Montague was treating it like a loss. 

You had your next match against Gryffindor the first Saturday in November, though the intensity of your drills would suggest that it was much sooner. Much of the joy you had felt from Quidditch had slowly sapped away as the winter had sapped the warmth from the air. 

It felt a bit lonely, up above the pitch.

You would often join your friends in the Great Hall or the library, chatting and laughing, but there was a dormant sense of loneliness in you that would awaken when you returned to your room at night. 

You loved your friends fiercely, in a way you could never really picture loving anyone else. They had stuck by you and you had stuck by them through awkward phases, growth spurts, questionable hookups, questionable boyfriends, and Simon’s complete inability to write any letters at all over the summer. 

But Sadie and Simon had each other. They could always leave the library together or duck into the Three Broomsticks alone, enclosing themselves in a little bubble that nobody but them could understand. 

And Tracey had Michael Corner. And Sebastian - well, Sebastian always had girls on his tail, but he didn’t seem to care whether or not they had a genuine connection. You envied this in him. 

Alone in your room, the feeling of isolation often surrounded you as you tried to focus on writing a Charms essay, reading over a Potions recipe, or memorizing Montague’s complex plays.

After finishing some essay or other assignment, you would sit back at your desk, trying to distract yourself by attempting to cast familiar spells nonverbally, but your attention often sank back to the overwhelming solitary quality that your life seemed to have taken on lately. 

By which time you would notice that Kaya had left your room again, and you would have to run downstairs into the boys’ hallway and scoop her up. It had become an inside joke between your friends - as much as you loved the cat, having to walk towards the door you knew to belong to Draco multiple times a week wasn’t exactly calming your nerves. 

You often contemplated what you could do to get him back, closing your eyes and picturing yourself hooking up with some random guy, turning to him to see rage on his face.   
But it was only a fantasy. You didn’t want to hook up with anyone else, just go through the motions to hurt Draco. Honestly, part of you didn’t think he’d even be hurt. Something seemed to have shifted in him lately. 

Kaya meowed loudly at you from your bed, and you summoned her food to you, pouring it into the little bowl near your desk. 

As she ate, you readied yourself for bed. You looked at yourself in the mirror, pajamas on, hair up. The necklace Draco had given you was still hooked around your neck. 

Your mind flashed, for a second, to the necklace Katie had been carrying, the necklace that you had seen in Borgin and Burkes before term. Your stomach churned with suspicion. 

Maybe you should take off this necklace. Sadie said it would be a good first step to getting over him. You went to do it, but paused with your hands around the clasp. 

Maybe tomorrow night. 

Though the sky was black, you found that you weren’t that tired and decided to start your Transfiguration essay so that you wouldn’t have to do it all on Sunday night, as had become customary for you. 

Kaya finished her meal, jumping up onto your bed and circling, finally settling herself right in the middle. You chuckled, deciding to take it as a sign to stop writing and go to bed yourself. You set your wand down on your bedside table and got into bed, lying on top of the covers and staring at the ceiling overhead.

A couple of voices drifted up from the common room - coming in after curfew. One of them let out a long laugh. Maybe it was Draco and Pansy. You and Draco used to wander around the castle last year under the pretense of his Inquisitorial Squad badge. Perhaps he and Pansy were doing it under the pretense of her status as a Prefect. 

You sighed, turning over and staring out the window, closing your eyes. 

Sleep didn’t come. 

You turned over again, facing the opposite side of your room, but there were too many thoughts floating around your head for your mind to be able to drift away. 

It was barely noticeable at first, just a slight heat against your skin that your subconscious mind didn’t bother to bring to your attention. But as the necklace kept heating up, it became clear that this was not a natural sensation. 

You sat up slightly, looking down at it as it got warmer and warmer, its silver scales glistening with heat. It almost burned, and you winced, bringing your hand to it. 

As soon as your fingers made contact, you heard a voice you recognized all too well ring out clearly. 

“You can tell me,” Moaning Myrtle purred. 

You shook your head, looking around the room. How on earth had she gotten in here? Was it possible that she had come through the lake? You had never heard of something like that happening to anyone else. 

But Myrtle wasn't in your room. 

Instinctively, you touched the necklace again, which was still simmering against your skin. 

“Don’t tell me you _care_ about her,” Myrtle’s voice pouted, and your eyes widened. What was happening? You kept your fingers around the chain and thought you heard the sound of water running. 

“Of course I don’t care about her. I care that it all went wrong,” you heard Draco’s voice say, and your heart started hammering immediately. 

You let go of the necklace, your brain already deciding what to do. You rushed into the common room, where Anna Giovanni and Megan Bulstrode were wrapped around each other in a rather small armchair. It must have been them you heard laughing earlier. You felt a little flicker of hope - it hadn’t been Pansy and Draco after all - but tamped it down as you left the dungeons, turning out into the hall. 

It was cold in the castle, and you were distinctly aware that you would undoubtedly get a day’s worth of detention if anyone caught you out of bed at this hour. 

But your feet were propelling you towards the bathroom with reckless abandon.

As you drew closer, you gripped the necklace again, and again voices rang out. 

“I had to do it,” Draco hissed, “and you know - the other thing - I can’t figure it out.”  
“You’re a smart boy,” crooned Myrtle, “you’ll get it.”  
“And if Katie wakes up? What if she…” quieter now, “what if she remembers?”

And with that, your suspicions were confirmed. Apparently, Draco had an affinity for necklaces bought from artifact shops. 

Your blood boiled at the thought, recalling the first words that you had heard him say: _of course I don’t care about her._ He didn’t care that Katie was cursed, only that whatever he was trying to do with the necklace hadn’t worked. 

You burst into the bathroom as soon as you reached the door, in no mood to be gentle with Draco tonight. 

_“You,”_ Myrtle snarled, and Draco whipped around. 

“I know what you did,” you said darkly, taking a step towards him. 

His briefly shocked expression melted into coldness. He made no move to respond to you. 

“I know what you did to Katie,” you repeated, the hand that wasn't clutching your wand curling into a fist at your side. 

“You have no idea what he did,” Myrtle glowered at you, and you turned to her, incensed.  
“Get out of here,” you growled.

Myrtle bristled, her face contorted with rage. She would have come towards you, but, as you had anticipated, she was unwilling to leave Draco’s side. 

“And you,” you said, rounding back on Draco with anger renewed, “talking to a ghost in the boys’ bathroom? Is that how little friends you have left? Though I guess they were never friends, anyway - more like lackeys that have finally come to see you for the coward you are.”

His cold expression hardened into anger. 

“How dare you!” Myrtle shouted.   
“Leave us,” Draco cut her off threateningly, though the sinister notes in his tone seemed more directed at you than they did at the ghost beside him. 

Myrtle snarled at you once more, then did as she was told. You paid no attention to her exit, keeping your stern gaze on Draco as you approached him. 

“Admit it. Admit you cursed Katie.”  
“I wasn't even in Hogsmeade,” he answered, his tone an ominous mix of casual and menacing.

“I heard you confess it to Myrtle just now, Draco, so don’t lie to me.”

His brows lowered over his eyes even more than they already had, clearly wondering how on earth you had heard him, how you knew he’d be here. So he didn’t know about the necklace. You took another step towards him. 

“Just admit it.”  
“I never knew you cared so much about Katie Bell.”

 _“Admit it!”_ You were shouting now, desperation staining your voice. 

He remained determinedly silent. You felt yourself shaking with rage. 

“You don’t care, do you? You don’t even care that you hurt her! She was just collateral damage in your failure of a plan!”

His expression remained at an impasse as you continued to shout, the words pouring out of your mouth.

“She could have _died!_ She might not ever recover! But you don’t care about her; you never did, because the only person you care about is yourself! And who cares who you hurt as long as you get what you want in the end, right?”

You were toe to toe with him now. It struck you that you didn’t think you _did_ care this much about Katie Bell, but you kept yelling anyway. 

“That’s always what’s it been about for you! You don’t care about anyone’s feelings aside from your own! You act like every other person in this world is just a planet revolving around your sun, and it’s sickening! And the worst thing is that I still don’t understand why!”

In your head, you meant to ask _‘why did you curse her?’_

But as the words tumbled from your mouth with pent-up rage, you said something else entirely. 

“Why did you kiss her?”

Your mistake hung out in the open, recalibrating all your previous words from being angry about his mistreatment of Katie Bell to being angry about his mistreatment of you. You didn’t bother to correct yourself.

“Why!” You asked, more of an exclamation than a question now. 

He didn’t speak. Incensed, you put your hands on his chest, pushing him against the sink behind him. 

“You’re pathetic, Draco!” You shouted as his hand slipped on the faucet and water started pouring into the basin. “You’re pathetic, and you’re the biggest coward I’ve ever met! I can’t stand the thought of you! Maybe Sebastian was right after all - _you don’t deserve me!”_

Quick as a whip, his wand was out, and you barely dodged his nonverbal spell as you felt it rocket through the air towards you, ricocheting off the wall behind you.

If you were in a normal state, you might have frozen, might have tried to calm him, but you were too enraged to do anything but retaliate. 

_‘Stupefy,’_ you thought, directing your wand at him, glad that you had spent so much time practicing nonverbals. 

A red light shot from your wand, but Draco batted it aside with his. Apparently, he had been practicing, too. 

You tried another _Stupefy,_ but you were thrown off your mark as Draco threw a spell at you that you just managed to dodge. It hit the wall behind you, and a small crack appeared in the stone.

You continued to duel, dodging and counterattacking, but the fact that he had tried to hex you with a spell strong enough to crack the walls of the castle made you wary of how high both of your tempers were. 

_“Nubis Pulveris,”_ you hissed, directing your spell at the ground in front of him. You hadn’t quite mastered it nonverbally.

Dust swirled up from the ground in gales, clouding the air between you and blocking you from Draco’s eye line. In its midst, you pointed your wand at him and thought _‘Expelliarmus!’_

You caught his wand as it arched through the air towards you. As the dust settled, Draco’s menacing expression swam back into view. You had never seen him angrier than he was now. 

“Fuck you, Malfoy!” You yelled. It seemed a bit juvenile, but it was the only thing you could think of to truly capture how you felt. Your blood ran hot through your veins. 

“Yeah? Well, fuck you right back!” It was the first thing he had said to you since you entered the bathroom. 

You could have yelled something back at him, but instead you brought the hand that wasn't holding both your wands up to the clasp of your necklace and undid it, hands shaking. You threw it down on the floor, where it gleamed in the moonlight, standing out from the gathering dust on the stone.

“I want no part of anything that has to do with you,” you said, trying to control the fury in your voice. “None.”

You stood there for a second, breathing heavily, and you felt a strange urge to cry. But you resolved that he would never see you cry again, never see you emote towards him at all, not ever.

You took a couple of steps towards him, shoving his wand up against his chest. 

“Don’t touch me,” he said.

You scoffed. “As if I’d ever want to touch you again. You have Pansy for that now.”

You took your hand off his chest, and his wand dropped to the ground. You turned, stalking out of the bathroom, making sure to step on the necklace as you left.

You made your way quickly through the hallways back towards your room. You were sure you looked crazy, ferocity with an edge of despondence, but you weren’t planning on running into anyone in the hallways anyway. 

Kaya was missing when you got back to your room. You must have left the door open a crack. _Oh well,_ you thought, _let her, then._ There was no way you were going back downstairs to collect her. 

You lay down for the second time tonight, this time without the necklace around your neck. 

As you breathed in and out, your hot anger melted off your face, giving way to a sort of sadness. You had poured your heart out to him, hadn’t you, even if you were shouting the entire time, and what had he offered you in return? 

A command for you not to touch him and a couple of hexes. 

You couldn’t help but think about his form when you first walked into the bathroom. Then, distorted by anger, all you wanted in the world was to put him in his place. Looking back, it seemed like he was already sufficiently depressed - his head was bowed, his hands were clutching at the sides of the sink. 

The thought made you feel a brief pang of guilt that expanded as you went over the confrontation again and again in your head. 

He was clearly in no right mindset to argue with you. Then again, his actions over the past week had been cruel at best, heartless at worst. 

Your mind flickered back to you pushing him, the way your hands had landed on his chest as you backed him into the sink, how his hands had slipped and caught the faucet as you continued your verbal assault on him. 

You had pushed him, _put your hands on him,_ even though you knew what Pansy used to do to him. You felt hot shame claw at your stomach, the need to cry becoming so overwhelming that you just gave in. 

The image of him kissing Pansy in the common room swam into your mind too, joining the revolving carousel of memories that had driven you to tears and now would not let you turn back from them. 

A small, traitorous part of you longed to go to him now. Your hand reached instinctively for your necklace, but, of course, it was no longer there. 

It was lying on the floor of the second-floor boys’ bathroom, burning amidst the dust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah so anyways... 
> 
> thank u for your comments they're so fun to read :)


	48. Halloween

The Halloween feast was no joke. Food was piled high on all four tables, replenishing itself every time someone filled their plate. 

Sebastian was holding his stomach, still trying to shove food down his throat. 

“It’s too good to pass up,” he groaned when Tracey asked him why he wouldn’t just stop eating. 

Simon had skipped dinner and gone straight to dessert, his plate piled high with cakes and puddings. Tracey and Sadie had gone for quite logical portions, but you found your plate a little heavy on the sweets as well. It was Halloween, after all - the single best day for sweets all year. 

Your eyes stayed determinedly on your side of the table. Ever since the night in the bathroom last week, you had found it much easier to avoid Draco. 

All your friends were celebratory of the development, encouraging you with words of _“he didn’t deserve you”_ and _“he’s a piece of shit anyway.”_ When Sadie had asked you what you did with the necklace, you replied that you threw it into the lake. Better that than having to explain what actually happened. 

“If it were me, I’d like to get in a good yell at him first. Maybe come to blows with him in the common room,” Tracey had mused.  
“And just draw attention to the fact that he’s made an absolute fool of me?” You returned. 

“True,” Tracey responded, just as Sadie said, “he hasn’t made a fool of you at all!”

Sebastian and Simon had worded their thoughts more simplistically, with Simon declaring him the biggest dick in the school and Sebastian reopening his offer to give him a good punch in the jaw for you. You laughed, telling him that if anyone were going to punch Draco in the jaw, it would be you. 

“Malfoy,” he had corrected you. 

Right. Getting used to thinking of him as Malfoy again would take some getting used to. 

But, for the first time in a while, popping a bit of frosting into your mouth as you watched Simon and Sebastian tee up for another pumpkin juice chugging contest, you felt light and happy. 

“Ladies,” Sebastian said, gesturing across the table at you, “place your bets.”  
“I bet five Galleons on Simon,” Sadie said. 

Sebastian scoffed. “Just because he’s your boyfriend, Sadie? How soft of you.”  
“Actually, it’s because he’s the reigning champion. Or have you forgotten?”

Simon chuckled, making an obscenely sexual gesture at Sadie. 

“Oh, ew!” Tracey said, “I’m betting five Galleons on Sebastian just for that.”

Sebastian grinned. “Finally, your relationship is working against you. (Y/N)?”

You made a show of thinking about it. “I’ll bet ten Galleons that one of you throws up before the end of the night.”

Both boys laughed, accepting your bet. They spent a good amount of time measuring out the juice into their goblets, looking into each other’s to make sure there was the same amount in each. 

Then, looking into each other’s eyes, they cheersed their goblets together once, twice, three times. Then they began drinking. 

It was a sight to behold. The butterbeer already flowing through you mingled with the effortless fun of the atmosphere, the candles making you feel warm and comfortable. You made eye contact with Tracey, who looked absolutely disgusted, and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

Sebastian slammed his goblet down first, Simon a half a second later. 

“YES!” Sebastian shouted, earning a couple of stares. Simon, a bit of pumpkin juice staining his upper lip, looked completely bewildered. 

Tracey looked even more disgusted than she had been, sending you into new fits. 

“I can’t believe you’ve lost me five Galleons,” Sadie complained.  
Simon wiped the juice from his lip, grinning at her. “I’ll make it up to you later?”

The party continued in the dungeons, where roaring fires and tables piled high with candy decorated the common room. Simon stood behind a makeshift bar he had made, mixing such incredible concoctions as “Pumpkin Whiskey” and “Honey Beer.”

You had to admit, the Honey Beer tasted good enough that you had drowned at least three cups already. Or was it four? Either way, your good mood was only heightened by the atmosphere. 

Sebastian came up behind you, grabbing your arm and holding out a bottle of firewhiskey. 

“Shots?” He asked, and you grinned, nodding. 

Tracey materialized behind you. “Have a contest,” she suggested villainously. 

Two minutes later, you and Sebastian were standing in front of Simon’s makeshift bar, five shot glasses for each of you lined up on the surface. 

“One, two… three!” Sadie yelled, and you tossed back the first shot. 

It burned in your mouth like lava, leaking down your throat and into your stomach. You didn’t hesitate, grabbing the second one, then the third one, then the fourth one - but wait, no, it was the fifth one, and you were already done. 

You slammed the glass back onto the table, Sebastian finishing his almost a full two seconds after you. You held up your hands, cheering and whooping. 

Sebastian held his stomach, murmuring something about pumpkin juice, and promptly left for the bathroom to make you ten Galleons richer. 

You held onto Tracey as you laughed and cheered, jumping around the common room. Sadie and Simon joined in, and you grabbed Sadie’s drink from her hands and finished it, handing her the empty glass.

She giggled, grabbing your arm, and Simon came up behind her and steadied her, whispering something in her ear. Her eyes widened, and the two of them pulled away from your circle and started walking toward the boys’ hallway. 

“Ewwwww,” Tracey drawled, and you laughed. 

Sebastian returned, and you sprawled out on one of the couches with him, making fun of him for throwing up and reminding him that he owed you “lots of Galleons… like, _lots.”_

Tracey disappeared after a while, and Sebastian whispered to you that she must be going to see Michael Corner in Ravenclaw tower. You laughed at that, motioning towards the hallway that Sadie and Sebastian had disappeared down. He got the message, laughing. 

“Everyone’s getting laid tonight, (Y/N). It’s Halloween,” he confided, and you nodded, taking his proclamation seriously. 

He put his arm around you, pulling you into him as he surveyed the room, asking you with silently raised eyebrows which of the girls he should go after tonight. You nodded when he looked at Meg Asterley. 

“Really, her again?” He whispered, and you nodded emphatically.  
“I liked her,” you drawled, “she was fun.”

He punched you lightly on the shoulder. “Sorted, then. Thanks for the assist.”

He got up then, tossing a “come find me if you need me” over his shoulder as he made his way through the crowd towards her. 

You lay back on the couch, eyes passing over the room slowly, taking in the green light from the lake, the orange glow from the fire, the glimmers of silver from the moon. Laughs and indistinct conversations punctured the air, and you smiled to yourself, your eyelids feeling heavy. 

You woke up to someone shaking you. 

The party had died down, just a couple of people still mingling in small groups off to the side. 

“(Y/N),” Sebastian whispered, and you blinked, focusing on him. Meg Asterley was standing behind him, his arm wrapped around her waist. You grinned. 

“Do you need help getting to your room?” He hissed, and you shook your head, mind clearing the slightest bit. 

He nodded, clearly thankful that he could carry on with Meg. They walked back towards the boys’ hallway. 

You stayed on the couch for a while longer, contemplating whether or not to go back to your room. The more you thought about it, the more you couldn’t stand the thought of being alone, of watching all your friends sneak off into the hallway or outside the dungeon while you were just going to sleep. 

But there was only one other place you could think of going. 

His face materialized in your mind, and you almost sighed out loud. You still remembered perfectly what your hands felt like in his hair, on his skin, how he smelled and tasted, how his voice sounded whispering in your ears. 

You weren’t picturing the Draco of the past month - no, you were picturing the boy who came around your bed and danced with you last year as the sun went down over the lake. 

You got up, room spinning a bit, and you grabbed the back of the couch to steady yourself. You were drunk enough to be able to stop thinking about the bad parts of him and only think about the need pulling in your stomach. 

_Everyone’s getting laid tonight._

Then you were outside his door. It might have struck you to knock, but it didn’t. You just opened the door and took a step inside. 

Even in your drunken state, it was shocking. 

What you remembered of his room was a roaring fire, clean sheets, pristine stone floors, and an organized closet. Now, shirts and robes lay on the ground, the room was cold and fireless, and candles on the dresser and the bedside table had leaked wax all over the wood. His blankets were hanging off his bed at odd angles. 

Draco was standing by his bed, in pajamas, his shirt probably lying somewhere on the ground below him. He looked utterly shocked to see you standing there. 

Then you noticed something else. A little flash of white ripped through his room, coming to rest at your feet. 

“What is my cat doing in here?” You asked, your voice slower than your brain. 

Draco looked like a deer in the headlights as he made eye contact with you. 

“She just… comes in here sometimes…”

As if to prove his point, Kaya ran out of the open door. You hoped she would go up to your dorm, because there was no way you were going to follow her and make sure. 

“What are _you_ doing here?” Draco asked, and you couldn’t figure out his tone. 

Perhaps if you were sober, you could analyze his body language and vocal undertones the way you were usually so adept at, but all you wanted now was just for him to want you as bad as you wanted him. 

“Why was my cat in here?” You asked, brain not totally catching up to the conversation. 

He said nothing. 

The thought occurred to you that you could try to read his mind the way he had done to you at the beginning of term. You took your wand out and pointed it at him, not missing the way he took a staggering step back. 

_“Legilimens,”_ you said, but he batted you aside effortlessly. 

His features hardened.

“Why would you do that? Why are you here? If you’re just going to hex me again, leave.”  
“No, I’m not.”  
“Why are you trying to get into my head?” He hissed.

“I wanted to see why my cat was in here,” you returned. He stayed silent. You spoke again, correcting yourself. “I wanted to see if you were serious about kissing her. Pansy.”

His face contorted into an expression you couldn’t quite figure out. “I was.”

A deep sadness broke within you. 

“Why?”  
“I like her.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t even like her. I don’t get it; I don’t understand you. I don’t understand why you would want to make me feel that way, I really don’t.”

The words were falling from your mouth unbidden now. As you spoke, he moved towards you. 

“After everything, I thought that things would change between us or something, that you would trust me - even when you stopped talking to me, I thought you were serious about everything you said. And then I saw you, and Simon said that Blaise said that you two are back together, and that’s just… it makes me feel like…”

It was like you were talking to yourself, your drunken thoughts of hooking up with him turning to deep introspection about the fact that your drunken thoughts would probably always turn to hooking up with him. 

“I don’t know how I’m going to get over you,” you mused, noticing that he was very, very close to you. 

Your gaze fell to his chest, drinking him in. 

“Sebastian said everyone’s getting laid tonight. Because it’s Halloween... so you’re probably waiting for Pansy, then, aren’t you? Waiting for Pansy. I don’t know why I’m here.”

“I’m not waiting for Pansy,” he said softly, so softly that you almost thought you made it up.

You looked up at him. “You aren’t?”  
“No.”

Your heart started pounding faster, thoughts flashing to his hair, his chest, his lips. 

“I didn’t want to kiss her,” he added, still in a whisper. 

You felt a pang in your chest so hard that you could have fallen over. He grabbed your wand from your hand and put it on his dresser. It reminded you of the bathroom. 

“I can’t believe I pushed you,” you said, “I can’t believe I did that; I’m so sorry. I can’t stop thinking about it, that I pushed you.”

He put his hands on your shoulders, steadying you. 

“Don’t,” he whispered.

If you were sober, you probably would have made him explain, forced him to give a good enough excuse for hooking up with Pansy and for allowing you to think that they were back together. But your mind was elsewhere. 

You looked up and landed your lips on his, fluttering your eyes shut, heart pounding as you hoped that this wasn't a grave miscalculation, that he would kiss you back. 

For a second, you were unsure. Then you felt his lips move against yours, his hands floating from your shoulders to your waist, where he steadied you, pulling you into him. 

There was the lightning, the electricity cracking through your veins, reminding you that your whole body had been humming, calling out for him for weeks, even if you were too scared to admit it. 

It recalled all the times you had fallen back together through fights and tragedies and anxiety and avoidance and Pansies and Theos and Deans and deep sadness and unbridled joy. 

Your arms wrapped tightly around his back, relishing the feeling of his skin against yours. You would have broken apart and told him how much you missed him, how you had ached for him, but you didn’t think you could find the words to tell him so.

You broke apart, and he rested his forehead on yours, both out of breath from drinking and confessions. 

He walked you back towards the bed, and you sat on the edge. He leaned over you, kissing you, and you lost yourself in him, privately telling yourself to memorize every second of this in case he started ignoring you again, in case this was the last time, in case this was somehow a dream. 

He broke apart from you, and your eyes roamed his body as he stood up. 

He moved his hands back towards you, pulling at the hem of your shirt, and you let him pull it off you before your head caught up with you. Your eyes strayed to his left arm as he deposited it on the ground. 

There it was, no less menacing than you remembered it. The snake writhed, the jaw of the skull looking almost unhinged—the Dark Mark. 

Disillusioned, you shied away from him slightly as he leaned back in.

“What’s wrong?” He whispered, hovering so close to you, and all you could do was flick your eyes towards the mark and hope that he would understand. 

He did. He exhaled, pulled off you, and turned around, his back to you. You struggled to think of what to do, what to say. Your brain felt sluggish, and you were aware that it was pulling you in two distinct directions. 

Half of you wanted to keep your pride, to go back to your room and pretend that this never happened, to leave him to his fate. But the other half of you, as always, just wanted to be near him. 

And that half of you seemed a lot more than half tonight.

Draco turned back around, shaking his head quickly like he was getting rid of some persistent thought. He took a step back towards you, and his hands were on you again. You froze, unsure. 

“Please,” he whispered, leaning his head into your ear, “please just forget about it. Just for tonight. Please.”

He kissed your neck, wrapping his arms around your back tightly, leaning you back into the bed. You didn’t push him away, didn’t try to resist, but your arms were hanging at your sides, heart pounding, unsure. 

“Please,” you heard him breathe against your skin again.

And how could you not give in?

You wrapped your arms around his back, moving up to his neck, more sure as you went. He exhaled shakily on your collarbone, then moved his head up to capture your lips in his. 

He pushed you back, moving on top of you, and you closed your eyes, just letting the smell of him wash over you as you lay back against his pillows, his hands moving up and down your body slowly, deliberately. 

It was slow and fast all at once. It was like he took forever taking off his pajama bottoms, but then suddenly yours were on the floor with them, decorating the mosaic of discarded clothes, books, and boxes that dotted the ground. 

Thinking of how unkempt his room had gotten momentarily troubled you, and Draco must have seen it on your face and mistakenly thought you were hung up on the Dark Mark. 

“I’ll put my shirt back on if you don’t want to see it. I’ll do anything,” he said.

“No,” you replied, shaking your head slowly, your hands looped around his bare shoulders.

You whimpered as he entered you, thinking about how long it had been since you had felt like this. He held your waist down tightly with one hand, the other hand bracing himself against his mattress, gripping his blanket in a fist.

You kissed him deeply, watching him reverently as you broke apart, the whiskey and the feeling he was giving you coming together to make the room spin slightly. 

You leaned back up to his lips, but he stopped you, electing instead just to watch you for a while, his eyes gazing into yours. Maybe looking for signs of worry, signs of doubt. Maybe looking for signs that you wanted this just as badly as he did, that you weren’t so angry with him.

Doing your best to communicate the latter, you pulled his face down towards you, then unclasped your hands from the back of his neck and brought them to frame the sides of his face as he stroked into you. 

You heard him whine and felt his arms get shaky around you, and you held him steady to you, carding your hands through his hair gently, trying to calm him as he climaxed. He gave in with a sort of dry sob and rolled off you, pulling you with him so that you were lying side by side, facing each other. 

He pulled your leg over his body, his fingers inside you now, and you closed your eyes, ducking into the crook of his neck, gripping his shoulder with one hand, bracing yourself on his chest with the other.

As you reached your high, he used his other hand to grab yours, lacing his fingers through yours and holding it between you. 

“I love you,” you murmured, and you found that you still meant it entirely.

He pulled your body to his, somehow even closer than you were before, and you sunk into him. You wondered for a second whether or not you would regret this later when your mind was less hazy. Perhaps this was one of those impulses that was better ignored. 

But it wasn't an impulse, not really. It was a steady stream, in your subconscious when it wasn't in your conscious mind, a need to be near him and with him. It refused to be ignored by its very nature. 

You wondered if he’d let you stay here. His arms around you said _yes._

A couple of people were still lingering in the common room - you could hear faint laughter and conversation. You felt a little cold, and a hazy idea took shape in your mind. 

You reached over Draco, grabbing his wand where he had left it on the bedside table. You heard him inhale sharply, and suddenly his hands were on your arm. You looked at him to see pure panic on his face.

“No,” you soothed, “I’m not going to do anything.”

He let go, if a bit slowly, and you could feel his eyes tracking on you as you turned your head and pointed his wand at the fireplace, casting _‘Incendio’_ nonverbally. Flames leaped up against the stone, and you could already feel the warmth spreading towards you. 

“Looks more like your room now,” you said softly. 

You were surprised at how easily Draco’s wand had responded to you. As you set it down on the table, though, you thought back to how alarmed he was to see his wand in your hand. He didn’t trust you. After all that, after everything, he still didn’t trust you. 

You settled back into his arms. Did you even trust _him?_ You loved him, but that wasn't the same. An image of the Dark Mark flashed through your head, and you shuddered. He pulled you closer to him. 

You remembered the day of the third task, how he had carried to your room after you watched Cedric die. You remembered how unsure he had been, how his hands had barely ghosted over your skin as he sat next to you on the bed. 

Then, when Umbridge had made you carve words into your skin - he had waited for you, but barely touched you until you told him to, thought you should leave until you said that you wanted to stay. 

But he had been more steady that night, his hands stronger around you, even if you had to direct them a bit. 

And now he was holding you to him in just the right way, his hands moving slightly up and down your back. It reminded you of how far you two had come, how the years had tossed you around and thrown you together. 

You exhaled, closing your eyes and relaxing into him as the fire warmed your back. It was a dangerous and stupid thought, more than a bit naive, but you concluded that you did trust him. When it counted, you did. 

Just as you felt yourself slipping into the state between waking and sleep, Draco’s door swung open on its hinges.

You shook your head to clear it, exhaling in surprise. You went to sit up to see who was at the door, but Draco threw his arm across your torso protectively, blocking you from getting a good look. 

_“What are you doing?”_ you heard someone hiss, and your eyes opened wider. Pansy.  
“Get out of here,” Draco said.

“No,” she said, in total disbelief. “No, you can’t be with her.”

“I said get out, Pansy. We’ll talk about this later.”  
“We’ll talk about this now.”

Draco sat up, the covers falling off him to reveal his bare chest. You sat up slightly, suddenly feeling very naked, and grabbed the blankets to wrap them tightly around yourself. 

“We’ll talk about this _now,”_ Pansy repeated, “we will. You said you were done with her.”  
“I was lying,” Draco returned.

Pansy looked shocked, then shook her head. “No, that can’t be true. You said -”

Draco cut her off. “I know I said a lot of things, Pansy, and I’ll explain it _later.”_

You never thought you would feel bad for Pansy Parkinson before, but she looked a bit like you assumed you had at the beginning of term when Draco started utterly ignoring you. Only he had promised her to tell her what was happening - he hadn’t even given you the time of day. 

“This isn’t fair,” she said, then, her tone taking on more anger than sadness, “I’ll tell your father everything.”

Draco sighed. “Don’t you think I’ve already come to terms with that?”  
“So our relationship was just a placeholder until you _came to terms_ with her?”

If nothing else, you had to admire her ability to argue.

Draco massaged his temple. “We’ll talk later. If you don’t leave, I’ll make you.”  
“I’d like to see you try to make me do anything,” Pansy scoffed, face hardening into a sneer. 

Draco dropped his arms back onto the mattress, and her eyes followed them absentmindedly. Then, suddenly, they widened - no doubt thinking about the mark. 

“She knows. _She_ knows about you?”

Draco growled, grabbing his wand from his bedside table and pointing it towards her. 

“Go on, Pansy. Find a way to tell my father everything - I’m sure you haven’t forgotten that he’s in Azkaban. Do what you want. But if you don’t leave right now...”

Pansy cut him off with a glare, then marched out of the room, slamming the door behind her. 

Draco exhaled, leaning back into the bed and discarding his wand on the bedside table. He shook his head slightly, then rolled back onto his side, pulling you back towards him. 

Your mind was swimming with questions and confusion.

“Oh,” he said softly, “I have…”

He trailed off as he turned his head, taking one of his arms out from behind your back and using it to open one of the drawers of his bedside table, where he pulled out something that flashed silver. You raised your eyebrows, wondering. 

He confirmed your suspicions, holding up the necklace that you had thrown on the ground of the boys’ bathroom. He raised his eyebrows, a silent question that you knew he would never ask outright. You pulled your hair back, a silent answer. 

His breath was hot on your neck as he snaked the chain around it, leaning in to clasp it in the low light. 

“I’m sorry for everything I said,” you said as he looked up at you, “I didn’t mean it.”

He nodded, pulling you back into him. “That’s - it’s - my fault, everything. I know I made you feel that way. I can explain it to you. Later. I promise.”

Later was alright for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> annnnd we're back. mostly.


	49. The Restricted Section

It would have been the perfect day if not for the cold. The sun was beaming overhead, but frost still dotted the grass. You made your way down to the pitch with Bletchley, chatting absentmindedly. 

“What do you fancy our chances of winning are?” He asked, and you shrugged.   
“Better be fucking high, the way Montague is drilling us,” you responded, and he chuckled his assent. 

It became deadly clear once you got into the changing rooms that your chances were not, in fact, very high at all. Montague was as stormy as you had ever seen him. 

“Pucey’s out,” he said by way of greeting, and you stopped short.   
“What?”

“Potion exploded on him or something. Pomfrey said there was no way he could play for another three days - she didn’t even _consider_ taking my bribe.”

You shook your head in disbelief. Bletchley was a pretty good Seeker, but Crabbe and Goyle were basically slabs of meat on brooms, and Harper was hopeless with the Snitch. The only thing keeping your team together at the moment was the fact that you, Montague, and Pucey worked effortlessly as a unit and had somehow managed to memorize all of Montague’s convoluted plays. 

“So who’s in?” You asked. 

Blaise Zabini entered the changing room to answer your question, and you wheeled around to fix Montague with a glare. 

“No,” you said, “you didn’t.”  
“Who was the alternative?” Montague asked. 

“Sebastian!” You said, on the verge of shouting, “he knows some of the plays, too; he helped me study them!”

“How was I supposed to know that?”  
“You could’ve asked me!” 

You weren’t sure why you were so pissed off - maybe because he had replaced Pucey, who you actually liked, with Zabini, who had called you a blood-traitor on the train at the beginning of term. 

Maybe because he had put so much pressure on this game that everything falling apart at the last moment was making you more anxious than you would care to admit. 

Maybe Quidditch just wasn't everything it used to be. 

“I’m the captain! I don’t ask, I tell!” Montague yelled. 

You scoffed as you laced your boots tightly, feeling sick to your stomach as you grabbed your broom and lined up at the front of the changing rooms, ready to walk onto the pitch. 

As usual, Montague headed the formation, followed by Bletchley and Harper, followed by Crabbe and Goyle. Followed - horrifyingly - by you and Zabini. 

“Better hope I don’t take your spot on the team,” he said to you with an air of superiority, his tone so cold that you knew there wasn't an inch of humor in his words. Your blood boiled as you took to the air, casting a quick warming charm as the air grew thinner. You wondered whether Draco was in the stands. 

Madam Hooch walked out to the center of the field, unlocking the vibrating trunk, and you saw Montague swoop lower, putting himself in place to grab the Quaffle as soon as she threw it up. He was successful, outbidding one of the new Gryffindor Chasers. 

It went bad fast. For some reason, Ron Weasley was playing as you had never seen him before, apparently devoid of all nerves, and he was blocking even you and Montague’s best shots. 

You could tell how frustrated Montague was getting, and the fact that Zabini was becoming more of a hindrance to the team than anything else wasn't helping. He didn’t know any of the plays, but, more than that, he was involving himself in plays there was no reason for him to be a part of. 

The final straw came when he knocked into Dean, a clear violation of the rules. Madam Hooch blew her whistle and gave Quaffle possession to Gryffindor, ordering Slytherin to give him half the pitch’s worth of space. 

As soon as Dean got near the hoops, Zabini decided to try himself as a Keeper, flying in front of the right ring and blocking Bletchley’s line. Dean tossed it to Ginny, who scored easily. 

Montague yelled something ridden with profanity at Zabini, and Madam Hooch blew her whistle again, issuing a language warning to him. 

The score was sixty-zero when you saw Harper go into a deep dive, and the Hufflepuff boy that was announcing confirmed that “Harper of Slytherin seems to have seen the Snitch!”

You hated Harper - incidentally, you had just watched him knock into Harry’s broom - but you held your breath in hope as you caught a quick flash of gold in his eyeline. 

Harry was hot on his tail, but surely he couldn’t be fast enough, surely not… Harper’s hand was just about to close around the Snitch when Harry yelled something, and Harper turned, the Snitch flitting out of his hand. 

“No,” you hissed, and Montague yelled something, but it was too late - Harper had fumbled it, and Harry had already swooped in to pick up his leftovers. 

Needless to say, the mood in the changing room was bleak as Montague immediately set off on a rant.

“Crabbe, Goyle, not a single Bludger hit. Not. A. Single. One. Zabini, I wouldn’t play you again even if it meant that we had to play a man down; you were abysmal. Bletchley, you need to get a handle on yourself when it comes to that Weasley girl -” 

“Zabini cut me off!” Bletchley protested.

“And I’ve just gotten pissed off at him for it, but you can’t blame every shot that went in on him! (Y/L/N), not your best game, but luckily for you everyone else played like utter shit and made you look better. And Harper - you’re off the team.”

Harper’s jaw dropped in disbelief. 

“But Potter yelled at me!”  
“You yelled at Potter!” Montague roared, “tell me you didn’t fall for your own tactics!”

Harper opened his mouth to talk again, but Montague cut him off by pointing to the door and repeating emphatically that he was no longer on the team. 

Everyone changed back into their robes and put their brooms up quickly, not wanting to accidentally incur more of Montague’s rage. You had laced your boots so tightly and your hands were shaking so much that it took you longer than everyone else to get ready to leave. As you were about to, Montague stopped you. 

“Hold on, you aren’t walking back alone,” he said, and you waited, allowing him to put his broom up and come join you. All the rage had seemingly melted off him, leaving disappointment in its wake. 

“I thought we could’ve had that one,” he said.  
“We were unlucky. Maybe if we had Pucey…”

Montague exhaled. “Yeah, Pucey and Malfoy both. I know I just kicked Harper off the team, but I don’t know how I’m even going to find a replacement for him. Any suggestions?”

“You don’t have to ask me, you know,” you said.

He shrugged. “Yeah, well. Maybe if Daley had been in instead of Zabini, it would’ve been less of a complete disaster. I think you’ll be captain next year, anyway. Then you’ll have to replace me _and_ Pucey, and find another Seeker at that. Unless you can convince your boyfriend - er, Malfoy - to get back on the team.”

He coughed awkwardly, and you smiled at him. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring up the whole thing with Malfoy, anyway.”  
“It’s all sorted now.”

Montague raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t press. Despite your words, you weren’t sure whether or not things were sorted at all. It had been two days since Halloween, and you two hadn’t spoken. He wasn't avoiding you (you hoped), you just hadn’t caught each other. But you were wearing his necklace.

Entering the common room after a Quidditch win was one of the best feelings in the world. Entering the common room after a loss, though, had to be one of the worst. People were gathered in little groups, and their chatting fell silent when you and Montague walked in. A couple of people rolled their eyes, others sent you looks of pity, but nobody made any move to talk to you. 

Except for Pansy Parkinson. 

No, she was all too ready to antagonize you. 

“Montague, (Y/L/N), straight from the pitch! Can’t help but notice you two came back a little later than everyone else. A little post-loss hookup?”  
“Why don’t you leave it, Parkinson,” Montague returned. 

Pansy smiled coldly. “I don’t think I will. If you weren’t hooking up, perhaps you were debriefing on how horribly you both played?”

You felt your blood run a little hotter. Montague ran cool. 

“We were the only ones that had a good game,” he said, “but I wouldn’t expect you to know anything about Quidditch. Haven’t seen you on a broom since first year.”

“We all have our talents,” Pansy sneered, “You’re good at tossing balls, I’m good at everything else, and (Y/L/N) is good at…”

She trailed off condescendingly, looking you up and down. “Sorry, I can’t think of any talents you have besides slagging yourself off to half the castle.”

“As opposed to what -” you shot back, “hanging off the arm of a boy who hasn’t properly wanted you for two years?”

“I’m sorry, have I gotten my notes mixed up, or have you been hanging off the same boy for the entire term despite the fact that he hasn’t spoken to you once?”

You smiled at her meanly, pulling your robes back to expose the necklace he had re-clasped onto your neck.

“He’s done a lot more than spoken to me. And you know it.”  
“Oh, he bought you a necklace? I bet you were wearing it while he was fucking me.”

You drew your wand before you could even think about it. 

“(Y/L/N)!” Montague shouted, grabbing your arm and pinning it behind your back. You growled, trying to shake him off you, but he held firm. 

“If you hex Pansy, you’ll get kicked off the team! Think!” He shouted.   
“Let me go, Montague. I won’t do anything,” you said after it was clear that you couldn’t get out of his grip on your own. 

He released you, and you turned heel and marched up to your room, thankful that, for once this fucking year, Kaya had decided to remain in your room. 

You threw your wand down before you could accidentally fire off a nonverbal at the wall, tearing off your robes and flopping down on your bed. The evening sun was waning, and your room was freezing. Unlike Draco, you didn’t have a fireplace, so you just had to put on a sweater and try to cast a warming charm through your rage. 

After a while, Sadie knocked on the door. 

“Come in,” you said, and she did, sitting on the floor and playing with Kaya. 

“Sorry about the game,” she said, “unlucky.”  
“Yeah, unlucky on top of us playing bad anyway.”

She hummed in solidarity. 

“Assuming you heard about what happened with Pansy?” You asked.

She laughed. “Yeah, heard it straight from you. Your voice carries.”  
“If she took a Bludger to the head, I would throw a party,” you murmured. 

Sadie chuckled. “I think you think too much about Pansy. Let’s do that Transfiguration essay, yeah? I’m assuming you haven’t started.”

You smiled, thankful for the fact that she always seemed to understand what you needed. “You assumed right,” you grinned, and she smiled back. 

“Good, Tracey hasn’t either. Shall I go get her?”  
“Yeah.”

Sadie returned with Tracey five minutes later, and you all got to work. Focusing on the ins and outs of nonverbal human transfiguration was enough to take your mind off your hatred for Pansy. You and Sadie finished up the essay. 

Tracey only got her introduction done, but she was distracted playing with Kaya anyway. 

“Goodnight,” you waved them off, making sure Kaya was safely inside your room. You picked up your wand, casting another heating charm and summoning Kaya’s food to her bowl. 

You lay down, exhausted. The air in your room felt stale, but the air outside was too cold to open a window. You wondered if there was a spell to refresh a room. There probably was, but you couldn’t imagine it being in one of your textbooks. 

That was something your father would know. He knew what seemed like every spell to ever exist. It was something of an inside joke between you and your mother, who playfully referred to him as the Standard Book of Spells Year 9.

The thought was bittersweet, tinged with the knowledge that you had no idea where they were. The piece of parchment they had given you at the beginning of term was always in the pockets of your robes, just in case. 

You rolled onto your side, petting Kaya absentmindedly. 

It came just as gradually as it had last time, but this time you were waiting for it, wondering whether or not it would happen again. 

Your necklace warmed against your skin, hot enough that you couldn’t blame it on your body heat. You sat up, heart beating. You brought your fingers up to it in trepidation. Would it work as it had?

As soon as your fingers touched, you got your answer. 

You didn’t hear any voices this time, just the rustling of pages turning, but the sound was definitely not coming from your vicinity. Someone cleared their throat - it was him. It had to be him. 

You heard footsteps, breathing, more pages rustling. 

The library. 

You were off without a second thought, taking the back way towards the library. It was longer, but there was a much lesser chance of getting caught. 

It was dark, being past curfew, but it made it easier for you to find him - you just had to find his light. Finally, you saw a _Lumos_ flash in the Restricted Section. The gate blocking it to students was already unlocked. 

“Draco?” You whispered, not wanting to take him by surprise and draw attention to yourself.

There was silence for a second, but then you heard his voice.

“(Y/N)?”  
“Yeah, it’s me. Where the hell are you?”

But you needn’t have asked the question, because he appeared at the end of the row as you spoke. 

You weren’t sure how you expected him to look - blank was always a possibility, but you were hoping that he would be happy to see you, that you would be a pleasant surprise in his evening. After all, he had put the necklace around your neck; you had both exchanged apologies and forgiveness, even if it wasn't out loud.

“What are you doing here?”  
“Just wanted to explore the Restricted Section.”  
“How did you know I would be here?”

Right. He didn’t know about whatever the necklace did. You thought about telling him, but then thought better of it, instead deciding to turn the question back on him. 

“Why are _you_ here?”

He blanched, looking down. You walked up to him, tipping the cover of the book he had in hand towards you. 

_“Poisons Moste Potente?_ What’s this for?”

He shook his head, brushing by you. You followed. 

“You know, you promised me you would explain everything,” you said, keeping your voice light, but everything about his body language screamed darkness, solitariness, wariness. He sat down on one of the couches. You sat down next to him.

“Draco, please,” you implored, more serious now, “I can’t go on like this.”

He looked up at you and rolled up his left sleeve, exposing the Dark Mark. You looked away on impulse. When you looked back up, he made eye contact with you, shaking his head again. 

“There’s your explanation.”

You moved closer to him. “That explains nothing about Pansy.”  
“Of course you’re worried about Pansy.”

You shook your head. “I’m worried about far more than that. I’m worried about why you cursed Katie, and what you’re doing with that book, and why you took the mark in the first place. And what Voldemort’s making you do -”

He looked up with startled eyes. 

“ - because I know he must be making you do something.”  
“Don’t say his name like that.”

You shook your head. “Do you want to start explaining now?”

He looked down. The Dark Mark stood out against his pale skin, and you pulled his sleeve back down to cover it, letting your hand linger on his arm. He stared at it for a while, as if deciding whether or not it was real.

“I didn’t mean for Katie to - I didn’t mean for any of that to happen,” he said after a while, quietly, like he was talking to himself. 

“Why did it happen?”  
“It wasn't meant for her.”  
“Who was it meant for?”

He looked up at you mournfully, shaking his head. The message was clear - he wouldn’t tell you that, no matter how hard you probed. 

“Alright… so you were trying to curse someone else.”

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

“And now you’re trying to poison them?”

There was another long silence. Then he closed his book, letting it fall to his lap. “I don’t know,” he whispered, “I don’t know what I’m trying to do. I don’t know how to do it anymore.”

“But what you’re doing - I mean, who you’re trying to… curse - Voldemort told you to?”

“Please don’t say his name.”  
“You-Know-Who told you to, then?”

You felt his body shake a little bit and pulled yourself closer to him, moving your hand from his arm to his waist, steadying him. 

“I have to. I have to do it. That’s why I took…” He lifted his left arm limply, then let it fall back into his lap. 

You fought against the instinct to tell him that he didn’t _have_ to do anything, that he could just choose to stop, choose another way. Sometimes there wasn't much of a choice at all, just life or death or a life not worth living at all. You wondered what Voldemort was making him choose between. 

“I don’t see how Pansy fits into this?”

He sighed. “It’s complicated.”  
“It’s always been complicated.”

“I thought… I didn’t want you to be involved in anything. I didn’t even want you to know, not about the Mark, or anything. I thought if I just ignored you… you would leave it.”

“You should’ve known me better.”

He smiled sadly. “Last year. I knew. When I went home, when my father sent me that owl, they told me… told me that he had a special task for me, something only I could do. After that, I tried to get you out of it, but you wouldn’t stop trying to talk to me.”

You grimaced, remembering the wild uncertainty of that week. 

“Did you really think I would?” You asked. 

“I don’t know what I thought. I hoped that you could just hate me instead of…”  
“Instead of loving you.”

He nodded. “And even though I didn’t write you anything all summer, even though I tried ignoring you… I couldn’t do it, not really. So I would come up into your room and just... be there. Until I had to obliviate you.”

You kept your eyes on him, waiting for him to look up at you, but his gaze was fixed on his lap. 

“Then you figured it out. And I couldn’t make you forget everything. But then you saw me in the bathroom, and I - I needed to see if you were serious or not. And I saw…” 

He trailed off. You knew what he meant - he saw your memories, all the times you had thought of him and wanted him so badly in spite of everything. 

“... I saw everything. And after that, I knew I would have to do something horrible to get you to stop wanting me.”

It dawned on you. “So you got back with Pansy. You thought that would be the final straw.”

He looked up at you, finally catching your eye. “Yeah. And it was, wasn't it? You were so angry at me. I thought I ruined everything forever.”

“And that’s what you wanted?”  
“It was exactly what I wanted, for you to hate me. It was exactly what I wanted, and it was horrible.”

“And then on Halloween -?”

He looked troubled. “I wish I hadn’t. I wish I had just kept lying to you, kept telling you I wanted to be with Pansy. But I couldn’t… I couldn’t say no to you.”

You asked the question you had been dreading. 

“Do you regret it?”

He looked at you for a long time, his eyes darting around your face. The book in his hands slipped and fell to the floor, but he didn’t even seem to notice. He looked confused and sad and hopeful all at once. 

“I regret ever getting into anything with you,” he said softly, “I wish I had just let you go so that you wouldn’t be a part of anything. And you could be safe.”

“That wasn't what I asked.”

His eyes fell to your necklace, which had cooled off by now. He reached out and touched it, moving it between his fingers slowly. 

“No. I don’t regret it.”

“And taking the Mark? Do you regret that?”

“There was a time that I wanted it,” he breathed, and you felt yourself freeze.   
“Don’t say that,” you returned, “please don’t say that.”

“I thought I could fix everything with my father if I could just _do it._ That way, my mother wouldn’t be trapped, too. And maybe he would forgive us.”

“And now?”

“And now… you’re what I have left.”

He leaned back on the couch, his eyes swimming with hurt. You knew what he wanted you to do, and you did it without a second thought, turning and leaning into him, your back on his chest, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. 

You played with his rings just like you always used to do. 

“Where’s the one I gave you?” He asked softly.  
“It’s in my room, in my drawer.”  
“Will you wear it?”  
“Yes.”

You lay there for a while longer. You knew it comforted him, reminded him of older times when things hadn’t been that complicated between you. When your only problems were whether or not Lucius would approve of you.

But it made you feel worse rather than better. Remembering how easy things used to be between you - the problems that had seemed insurmountable then now seemed menial. 

His necklace shined around your neck, though, and you told yourself that you would find a way to make this work, too. You needed it as much as he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> draco actually talking... who would have guessed!
> 
> thanks as always for your comments/kudos they mean so much to me :)


	50. The Prefects Bathroom

Scoops of ice cream sat in a glass goblet in front of you, but you found you weren’t feeling that hungry. 

You were at Slughorn’s little club. Simon had gotten an invitation too, but he had stayed in the dungeons to hang out with Sadie. Which left you alone. 

There was nobody to talk to. Harry and Hermione were both there, but you hadn’t spoken to either of them in quite a long while, and they were making no moves to change that. 

Cormac was there too, the git, and a couple odd Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. The only Slytherin besides you was Blaise, and you would rather sit alone and in silence than try to make conversation with him. 

So you were sitting alone and in silence. 

Slughorn went around the table, chatting with everyone. 

“Belby, how’s your uncle doing?” Then, to the rest of the table - “Belby’s uncle invented the Wolfsbane Potion, you know.”

Belby spoke in between shoveling spoonfuls of ice cream into his mouth. “I dunno. He doesn’t keep in touch with my dad. They had a falling out.”

Slughorn moved on swiftly, asking Hermione about her parents, who worked some muggle job you had never heard of before in which, apparently, a child had bitten her father. 

“And (Y/L/N), of course - I had the pleasure of teaching both of your parents, both dab-hands at Potions, and you seem to have taken their legacy in stride.”

You nodded politely. “Thank you, sir.”

“Of course, your mother went on to become an Unspeakable. I got her that entry position at the Ministry, I did. And what’s she doing now?”

Your smile dropped from your face as you tried to find the words to say that you had no idea where either of your parents were, much less what they were doing. You opened your mouth to try to communicate the issue when, mercifully, the door swung open. 

Ginny Weasley entered, wearing a pretty black dress, and Slughorn introduced her to the group as Hermione leaned over to whisper something to Harry. 

As Ginny got to the table, Harry stood up. 

If you were friends with Hermione, you would have shot her a knowing look, but instead you just raised your eyebrows into your lap. Dean had some competition, by the looks of things. 

You started eating your dessert to distract you from the atmosphere of the room as Slughorn started questioning Cormac.

You tried to keep an average pace as you left the dinner, not wanting to reveal how much you wanted to get out of there, but as soon as you turned the corner, you broke into a jog. You felt antsy and tired at the same time.

“Nightjar,” you said to the wall, this week’s password. 

The common room was pretty empty - it was a Monday night, after all - but Simon and Sadie were sitting on one of the couches. Well, Sadie was sitting. Simon was leaning on her, asleep and slightly drooling as she scribbled something onto her parchment.

She looked up as you came in. 

“How was it?”  
“It would have been fun if Simon had come. Without him, though - horrible.”

Sadie made a face. “Yeah, I can’t imagine hanging out with a bunch of Gryffindors and Blaise Zabini being a good night.”

You waved goodnight to her, walking up the stairs and into your dorm.

Where, of course, Kaya was nowhere to be found. 

Sadie cocked her head at you as you reentered the common room. 

“Back already?”  
“Kaya’s gone,” you said, making your way towards the boys’ hallway.   
“Hmmm,” Sadie mused from behind you, “I suppose she’s in Mafloy’s room?”

You turned. Sadie raised her eyebrows.

“Sebastian said he saw you leave there Halloween morning.”

You smiled sheepishly. “I was going to tell you guys, but…”  
“Yeah, I get it. I knew you were back with him anyhow - you’re wearing that necklace again.”

She stood up, and Simon fell back onto the couch, making a groggy noise of surprise. 

“I would never tell you what to do, (Y/N). You know that. But I’m just not sure… I mean, he’s already affected you so much this term alone. Simon heard Blaise saying he was back with Pansy now.”

You shook your head. “He wasn't.”  
“So he just kissed her for no reason?”  
“It’s… he explained everything to me.”

Sadie winced. “If it were Simon who did that, there wouldn’t be an explanation that could be good enough. I would be done with him.”

“Wha’s goin’ on?” Simon’s tired voice piped up from the couch. 

“Draco isn’t Simon,” you said.  
“I know. I’m just saying… you let a lot of his shit slide. You always have. He’s like your blind spot.”

You hesitated. You did tend to let a lot of things go with him, but that was only because there would be no sense in forcing him to say something that you already knew to be true. It was better to keep your mouth shut about some things than it was to say them, knowing that he would get angry, knowing that he might close himself off. 

Maybe it was foolish. Maybe he _was_ your blind spot. But when you thought of everything he had done to be with you - sacrifice his reputation, ignore the words of his father and his friends - things that would seem trivial to Sadie, but that his family had raised him to value a great deal, you couldn’t help but think that you must be his blind spot too. 

Sadie shook her head slightly at your silence. “It’s obviously not up to me, though. I hope you find Kaya. We won’t wait up.”

She turned and walked back to the couch, Simon asking her a drowsy question as she sat back down. You turned and walked into the hallway. 

You had come downstairs to find Kaya, anyway, but the more you thought about it, the more you were hoping she would be where you had found her on Halloween. 

You knocked on his door quietly. 

He opened it after a little while, surprised to see you. 

“Hey,” you said, “have you seen Kaya?”  
“Kaya?”  
“My cat.”

A look of realization passed over his face, and he swung open his door to reveal that Kaya was, in fact, in his room, and had made herself quite at home in front of his fireplace.

“I was just about to go for a bath,” Draco said.  
“I’ll wait here.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m leaving the dungeons. Going to the Prefect’s bathroom.”  
“I thought you quit being a Prefect.”

“Yeah, but Pansy gave me the password, and this is the last day I can use it before it changes over. And something tells me she won't give me the next one.”

You smiled, glad that he seemed more lighthearted than usual.

He leaned against his doorway, and you leaned against his fireplace, where you were happy to see he had started a fire again. Kaya purred in her sleep. 

You regarded each other for a moment, then he raised his eyebrows and swept out into the hall, leaving the door wide open behind him. 

You couldn’t help but grin as you followed, shutting it behind you, running a little to catch up with him as he made his way down the hall towards the common room. He turned around as you came upon him. 

“Surely you weren’t going to leave me in your room,” you said.  
“I knew you would follow me,” he said, then, in a quieter voice, “but I wouldn’t have minded you waiting for me to get back.”

He grabbed your wrist, and you felt your stomach jump. 

“You ever been to the Prefect’s bathroom before?” He asked, leaning against your ear.

You shook your head. He grinned, inclining his head towards your lips, but at the last second, he pulled away and kept walking. You stumbled as he dragged you behind him, still holding you by the wrist. 

Luckily, Sadie and Simon were already gone by the time you reached the common room. A flicker of doubt danced across your mind as you recalled Sadie’s words, but you banished it immediately. 

There was no time for doubt now, not when he was acting like himself for the first time this term. 

“Gillyweed,” he said to an ornate portrait of a woman in what seemed to be the medieval version of a bathrobe, and it swung open.

You and Draco walked through the portrait hole, and you raised your eyebrows, suddenly regretting not trying harder to be a Prefect. 

An ornate bathtub - more of a pool, really, dominated the atmosphere of the room, framed by stained glass portraits of mermaids combing their hair while fish jumped in and out of the water below them. 

Marble shelves stood off to the side, and Draco strode over to them, taking off his robes, folding them, and putting them into one of the boxes. He turned around and saw you taking in the room. 

“Makes the girls’ dormitory look like shit,” you said, and he chuckled, moving closer to you. 

You leaned back against him, looking up at the gold ceiling where Renaissance-style paintings depicted glamorous women running baths in full gowns. He wrapped his arms around your stomach, pulling your back flush to his chest, and leaned down to whisper in your ear. 

“Take your clothes off.”

You turned and put your arms up in the air so that he could pull your dress off easily like he usually did - but he shook his head.

“No. I want you to do it.”

You blushed, crossing your arms across your chest. 

“Since when are you shy?” He whispered. “I’ll go first if you want me to.”

Before you could say a word, he hooked his hands under the hem of his shirt, pulling it off with ease and tossing it over towards the shelves in the corner. Your eyes strayed over his toned chest, willing yourself to not look at his left forearm, to not even think about it. 

You unzipped your dress and pulled it off you without a second thought, and when it hit the floor, Draco was much closer to you than he had been before.

His hands jumped to your waist, and you inhaled sharply as he pulled you back into him.

He leaned in, lips less than an inch from yours, and just as you were about to close the distance yourself, he spoke. 

“Tell me how long you’ve wanted me,” he whispered.

You thought about holding off, but you didn’t think you could go much longer without his lips on yours. 

“Years,” you whispered back, then closed the distance yourself. 

His hand came up from your waist to grab onto your neck, his thumb tipping your jawline up towards him. You reached back to undo your bra clasp, shrugging it off you so that it joined your dress on the floor. 

You tried to bring your hands up to his back, but he caught them in midair, pulling them down towards the waist of his trousers. You took the hint, hands deftly unbuttoning, unzipping, and pulling them off. You ducked your head into his neck, nipping at the skin below his ear, his heartbeat humming in the air around you. 

His hands worked around your waist, then around his own, until you had abandoned your clothes on the gleaming floor. 

He backed you up against the side of the bathtub, pulling your head up from his neck and kissing you fervently as his hands moved behind you, turning faucets on. 

You heard the water start running, and you tried to steal a glance behind you, but Draco’s hand on your neck stopped you. 

“Eyes on me,” he breathed, and you complied without a second thought.

He kissed you again, and you sighed into his mouth, your hands looping around his neck, tugging at him as he slowly deepened the kiss. He pressed further into you, tongue moving into your mouth, easily dominant. 

You brought your leg up, tracking against his thigh. He got the idea, moving his hand under your thigh, grabbing it, and did the same on your other side. You moved your hands to his shoulders as he picked you up and walked a step closer to the side of the tub. 

You broke apart from him, resting your forehead on his. His eyes weren’t on yours - focused instead on the ground below him as he held you in the air, stepping into the bath.

He sat down on the bench siding the tub, and you straddled him, grinning as he finally looked up and made eye contact with you again. 

The water was a beautiful lilac color, steaming, soap bubbles drifting all over its surface. You wondered if Draco had chosen the color or whether the bath had just conjured it up for you. 

Your lower body under the warm water made your torso feel cold, and you shivered a bit, feeling little goosebumps rise on your skin. 

Draco smoothed his hands up and down your body, carrying warm water with him, dripping it down your shoulders, watching as it ran down your chest in little rivulets, sticking to the silver scales of your necklace. 

The tips of your hair touched the surface of the water, making it ripple a little bit around you. 

Draco pushed your hair back from your shoulders, exposing your neck and his necklace winding around it. He pulled your hips into him possessively.

You leaned in to kiss him, but he brought up his hand and pushed your cheek to the side, instead ducking into your neck and latching onto a spot of skin just above your collarbone. You gasped. He wasn't gentle, almost biting you, and his hand held your head so that you couldn’t see him. You whimpered, and he bit down harder, making your nails dig into his back. 

Finally, he took his hand away from where it was pressing into your face, and you rounded back on him, resting your cheek against the top of his head as you arched into his body. 

His hand left your back and curled up the nape of your neck into your hair, pulling back hard enough that it hurt. 

“Fuck,” you breathed, and he surfaced from your neck, eyes level with you. They flashed with lust, and you were sure that you were wearing the same expression. You mewled, and he answered by pulling harder on your hair. 

His lips were on yours before you could take another breath, his hands still tugging on your hair. You wound one hand around the back of his neck in response, digging your nails in as hard as you could. 

He growled into your mouth, breaking apart from you. 

“Careful.”  
“You want this as much as I do,” you returned, breathing heavily. 

Suddenly, he flipped you around, lifting you so that you were sitting on the edge of the tub, your whole body out of the water except your feet. You opened your mouth to complain, but he cut you off with his lips on yours. 

“Not another word from you,” he said, his hands on your shoulders, moving lower, to your hips, and his head was moving too until everything below his shoulders was underwater. 

He pressed a kiss to your stomach, quickly turning it into more of a bite, and you shuddered - half with cold, half with anticipation. 

He kissed your stomach again, lower, and you tangled one of your hands in his hair, bracing the other one against his shoulder. His hands were on your thigh now, fingers ghosting further and further up.

The anticipation built so much that it was almost overpowering, and you let out a little whimper. 

“What’s that?” He asked. You shook your head, willing him to keep going. 

But he didn’t, his hands and his lips pausing only inches away from where you wanted them, needed them.

“Please,” you begged, “please, Draco, please.”

He stayed still for a couple more seconds, and you were about to open your mouth and beg again when suddenly he was on you. 

His fingers worked inside of you, his mouth on your clit, his tongue circling it. You bit your lip, choking out a moan anyway, your hand on the back of his neck, pushing him deeper into you. 

You felt your legs start to shake, and you tried to steady yourself, moving one of your hands to grab his shoulder. You knew it wouldn’t be long until you reached your high, not when he was working you like this. You moved your hand again, trying to find purchase anywhere you could. You pushed it against his chest, feeling your nails dig into his skin, gripping right under his collarbone.

“I -” you gasped, feeling your legs squeeze around his head. 

He looked up at you, wet hair, eyes dark, pulling his hand up from your thigh to wipe the sweat from his upper lip. 

Your body squirmed under him, so close to release, and you curled your hand back around his neck, trying to push him back down.

He shrugged you off easily, his eyes never leaving yours. “No.”

Then his hands were around your waist, so fast you could barely react - and he was flipping you around, and you were on top of him again, the water lapping at your sides as he pulled you down onto him. 

You whined, and he cursed under his breath, pulling you into the air, then pushing you back down on him again, stroking into you. 

The hand that had been bracing itself against his chest curled into a fist, and you dug your nails into your palm, feeling tears prick your eyes. You had already been so close, and now this, and it was so good that you felt lightheaded. 

The bath’s scent of lavender curled around you, mixing with his cologne, that little bit of vanilla, and his hands were gripping your waist, pulling you up and pushing you down. You moved with him as much as you could, but your legs were already weak and getting weaker by the second. 

You curled your head into his shoulder, your hand still wrapped around his neck, and pulled him into you, both of you slick with sweat and the water from the tub.

He grabbed your hair, pulling you away from his neck and back out into the open. He slammed his lips onto yours before you could think, and you sucked on his bottom lip, feeling yourself draw close again. 

He rocked into you, leaving you moaning into his open mouth, and you shifted, twisting, your body feeling like it was folding in on itself. 

Just as you were about to climax, he pulled out of you and stood up, dragging you to your feet with him. Water dripped off of you, running down his body in tiny streams, and he pulled you to him, hand on your lower back. 

You let out a dry sob, not sure how long you could stand for. 

He leaned into you, whispering into the shell of your ear. “Finish me yourself.”

You nodded, leaning into his chest, your hand trailing down his chest and finding him hard against you. You stroked up and down with practiced movements, your other hand holding onto his shoulder so that your knees wouldn’t give out beneath you. 

You were shaking, and Draco’s hands came to hold you, wrapping around your back, pulling you into him. 

It wasn't long before he came, and you let him go, collapsing against him. 

He removed one of his arms from your back, and you buckled a little bit, holding him desperately as his hand snaked down between your legs, finishing what he had started what felt like hours ago. 

You whimpered into his chest, and his unoccupied hand came up to rest against the back of your head, smoothing your hair down. 

As he felt you start to shake again, he moved it down to wrap around your waist, holding you up. 

“Please,” you said, begging him to let you go this time.  
“I will,” you heard him say. 

And he did. You collapsed into him completely - had it not been for his hand around your waist, you would have fallen.

You realized that you were crying.

You stood like that for a while, his hand coming up to the back of your head again, soothing you with whispered words that you couldn’t quite hear. 

Finally, one of his hands came to your jawline, tipping your head up towards him. He noticed the tear tracks on your face, mixing themselves with the lilac bathwater from his chest. 

“Too much?” He asked, voice soft. 

You shook your head, leaning back into him, cheek to chest. The stained glass mermaid kept running the brush through her hair. 

Draco kept his arms around you, picking you up as he climbed out of the bath, grabbing his wand to cast a drying charm, then a warming charm. You reached for his hand, and he obliged, holding onto it as he pulled on his pants, letting it go for a second as he put his shirt back on. 

You stepped into your dress, a wrinkled puddle on the floor, pulling it back up, and Draco came around behind you to zip it up, gentle, his other hand on your waist. 

He offered his hand to you again as you left, and you gladly took it. 

“Nightjar,” he murmured to the wall once you got back to the dungeons, and it obliged, opening up into the passage. 

You leaned into him as you walked through it, feeling strangely vulnerable. Nobody was in the common room - it must be late, you thought; it was already past curfew when you left. 

You couldn’t bear the thought of going back to your room alone, and luckily Draco seemed to have had the same idea, keeping your hand in his grip as he walked towards the boys’ dorm.

The fire was still going when you walked back in, the room glowing with heat. Kaya was still asleep by the fire, and you walked over to pet her. She purred, but moved her head away from you. 

“Indecisive little thing,” you murmured, and you looked up to see Draco watching you, his face calmer than you had seen it in weeks. 

“She brought you back,” he mused. You smiled softly. 

You turned back to her, watching her for another couple of seconds, but you looked up as you felt him behind you. 

He held out an old Quidditch jersey to you, and you accepted it silently, inwardly glowing. He had never given you something to sleep in before - either you wore your pajamas down, or he made you sleep in whatever you had on. 

It was a small thing. It felt like the biggest thing in the world. 

You unzipped your dress for the second time, stepping out of it and pulling the jersey on over your head. You sighed, breathing in his smell all over it, and lay down next to him in bed. 

His eyes had changed from comfortable relaxation to a shade of melancholy, and you reached out, moving closer to him. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked.  
“Nothing,” he shook his head.  
“Okay,” you agreed, not wanting to push the issue. 

He sighed. 

“I guess there’s no way you aren’t involved now?”  
“It’s not your fault, Draco. I involved myself.”

He smiled sadly.

You smoothed your hand down his arm, shaking your head slightly. He closed his eyes, breathing steadily, wrapping his arm around you. 

“Stay here for Christmas,” he murmured into the top of your head.  
“I already am.”  
“You are?”

“Yeah. I can’t really go home right now.”  
“Why not?”

You took a shaky breath. You hadn’t said this out loud to anyone besides your closest friends. 

“My parents are… in hiding. From him. They couldn’t ask for protection from the Order, so…”

His arms tightened around you. You knew what he was thinking now, and you kept soothing your hand up and down his arm, hoping he wouldn’t scare. 

“It’s not your fault,” you said preemptively, “it has nothing to do with you.”  
“Of course it has something to do with me,” he said.  
“No, it doesn’t. It doesn’t.”

There was a silence then, but you felt him growing tenser around you. You searched for the words to dispel his fears, to convince him wholeheartedly that none of this was his fault. But he spoke before you could find them. 

“He’ll kill mine if I don’t do it. My parents... and he’ll kill me, too.”

Your heart picked up, your eyes widening. 

“If you don’t do… what?” You wondered, keeping your voice soft, hoping beyond hope that he would confide in you. 

“If I don’t kill him.”

You kept your hand moving on his arm, slowly, casual. “Kill him?”

He took a shaky breath.

“Dumbledore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tfw you're chillin in bed and your boyfriend starts telling you about his assassination plot


	51. The Room of Requirement

Draco grabbed a canvas in his hands, pulling it down to reveal an old looking cabinet with strange carvings on its doors. 

It looked a bit like a birdhouse, tall and weather-worn. Or maybe a smaller version of a broom shed, something you would find hidden in some corner of your backyard as a child. 

There was something more ominous about it, though, a sinister underlayer to its relatively innocent exterior. Perhaps it was the curves of the metal crosspieces that snaked up the woods in curious patterns, the shining gold gears near the door handle. 

You took a step closer to it, considering. 

Frankly, it was a genius plan. You had been in Borgin and Burkes almost every year before term began, and yet you had only noticed their copy of this cabinet in passing. 

Of course, you knew Montague had gotten trapped in it for a couple of weeks at the end of last year, but it had gone from being alarming to being a good laugh, the story he always told to new people to prove that he was funny and interesting. 

Draco, as it seemed, had been the only one to reach for something more in Montague’s story, to find the pieces and put them together. 

It had taken a great deal of work on your part to convince him to tell you what his plan was, and then a great deal more to persuade him to take you up here and show you the fruits of his labor. 

You wished that he hadn’t come up with a plan so good, secretly hoping that he wouldn’t be able to fix the cabinets at all. It was a terrible thing to think - if he failed, Voldemort would kill him along with his family. 

But you had this insane hope that you would be able to save him, or maybe the Order would step in, or something would go wrong at the last second, and you would be able to get him out before Voldemort could find him. 

In your head, this couldn’t possibly end with Draco killing Dumbledore. It would end with him escaping, finding the perfect place to hide out, finding someone to protect him. And you would find your parents, and maybe he could come with you, and it could be the four of you, safe in another country, another world. 

You took another step closer to the cabinet, peering around its side and looking at the metal detailing. You reached out to brush your hand against it, but Draco’s voice startled you out of your thoughts. 

“No,” he said, an edge of panic to his voice, “don’t touch it.”

You turned back to him, raising your eyebrows. “What, will it burn me?”

“I just don’t want you near it,” he murmured. “I don’t want you near any of this.”

You sighed, turning away from the cabinet and walking back towards where he was standing, a couple of paces away. His eyes tracked yours as you moved. 

“Well, I’m already here. And I’m already part of this -”

He opened his mouth to speak, but you pressed on before he could. 

“ - which was my choice, alright? I _chose_ to be a part of this.”  
“I just don’t want you near it,” he repeated.

You sighed, turning back to stare at the cabinet. 

“Alright. I won’t go near it.”

You stood there, side by side, staring at it. You could have fought his point, reminded him that you weren’t a fragile child, that you were already involved enough as it is, that surely nothing bad could come of you simply touching the siding. 

But, in truth, you didn’t want to touch it. It was a little bit too tall, and the fact that the door handle was gleaming an untarnished gold while the wood looked like it had been rained on and whipped by the wind for centuries was unsettling. 

“I can’t fix it,” he said after a while. 

“What’s wrong with it?”  
“I don’t know - something about the passage is broken. It traps things - kills them or hurts them.”

For a brief moment, you considered offering your help, but that was a step too far. Despite your naive confidence that the plan would go awry at the last moment, helping him get to that point would be a betrayal of everything you had been brought up to believe. 

And he wouldn’t let you help him, anyway. The fact that he had allowed you to come with him tonight was a miracle in and of itself. 

“I have to figure something else out,” he said, “this isn’t working.”

Your mind flashed quickly to the book you had caught him with in the Restricted Section - _Poisons Moste Potente._

“Not poison,” you said.   
“Why not?”

“It’s reckless, Draco. How could you get it to Dumbledore, anyway?”  
“I don’t know. I still have to figure that part out.”

You shook your head emphatically, trying to make him understand. 

“No, it wouldn’t work. It would end up - well, someone else might end up taking it, and then there would be another Katie Bell.”

“But they wouldn’t know that the poison came from me.”  
“You would still have poisoned an innocent person, Draco. Or does that not matter to you?”

He looked indignant at your words, his brows furrowing, but his face softened after a second.

“Yes. I’m just - not thinking straight, is all.”

You hummed, leaning into his side. The cabinet loomed over you, casting a peculiarly triangular shadow. You couldn’t imagine the stress he was under - trying to fix this rather complicated piece of magic, trying to figure out different ways of doing something that he was so obviously terrified of doing. 

You wouldn’t be thinking straight either. 

“Don’t do this over Christmas break,” you said quietly.   
“What?”  
“I mean - don’t try working on this over Christmas.”

He shook his head like he couldn’t understand what you were saying. 

“I have to try it over Christmas. Nobody will be in the castle, so it’ll be easier to get around. I have to make up for lost time…”

You shook your head, feeling a sort of sadness take hold of you as you looked over him and saw the confusion on his face. But there was something else there too, a wild look in his eyes - perhaps a fleeting hope that he didn’t have to do it, that he could stop. 

“I just want to be with you,” you said, “please don’t.”

The look in his eyes grew a little bit, and you leaned into him, staring back up at the cabinet. 

“Okay,” you heard him say softly from above you, “I won’t.”

You left the room together after Draco cast a quick charm to make sure nobody was in the hall outside, parting outside the library as he went to do some work and you went back to the common room. 

It was almost dinner time, but you still had a couple of hours, and luckily your friends were already sitting in the common room having a game of Wizard’s Chess. 

You swung in next to Sebastian, giving him a pointed look to ask for the rundown. 

“We did a little tournament,” he explained, “I lost to Simon, and Sadie lost to Tracey.”

“Tracey won? Well, that’s an upset,” you chuckled, nudging Tracey in the shoulder. 

She shot you her middle finger, her eyes on the board where Simon was destroying her. 

“I don’t get it,” she murmured, “how is he so good at this?”  
“Seriously, Simon,” you agreed, “Slughorn would love you.”

“Would he?” Simon mused, hands ghosting over his pieces, deciding which one to move next. “I might have to come to the next dinner, then.”

“What, Sadie not doing it for you lately?” Sebastian asked.

Sadie punched him in the shoulder. 

You grinned, happy to be able to relax after the stress of having to stand in the Room of Requirement and stare up at the cabinet that your boyfriend was trying to fix in order to kill the headmaster. 

Unfortunately, the warm feeling didn’t last long. Draco got back from the library after about an hour, and you watched him as he walked through the common room and back towards his room. 

When you turned around, all your friends were staring at you. Even Simon was giving you a look, and he was notorious for never looking up from a game of Wizard’s Chess.

“Alright,” Simon said, “tell us what’s going on, then.”  
“What?” You asked, feigning ignorance.

Sebastian shook his head, bringing his hand up to flick your necklace.

“You got back together with him, didn’t you?”

You sighed, knowing that they would not approve this time. Not wanting to say the words out loud to them, you just nodded. 

Sadie and Tracey exchanged a look, and Sebastian whistled lowly. 

“I’m sorry,” Tracey piped up, “did he not kiss Pansy Parkinson in the common room in front of you three weeks ago and then get back together with her?”

In truth, Pansy was the least of your concerns in getting back together with Draco, but you could hardly tell them that. 

“He just did that to make me jealous.”  
“After he ignored you for a month?” Sadie asked, incredulous.

Tracey hummed in agreement. “That’s psychotic.”  
“I did the same thing to him with Theo,” you defended. 

Sebastian laughed at that, shaking his head at you in playful disbelief. “Well, in that case, maybe you’re meant for each other.”

You grinned at him, glad that he was bringing some levity into the conversation, but Sadie shot him a pointed glare that made it clear she didn’t feel the same. 

In fact, Tracey, Sadie, and Simon were all fixing you with the same look.

“I just don’t think this is a very good turn of events,” Sadie said gently.   
“He’s a bit of a dark bloke, (Y/N),” Simon nodded his agreement. 

Tracey nodded too. “I mean, he _is_ attractive,” she allowed, “but it’s not worth it. It just feels like he’s involved in some… creepy stuff, you know?”

“He’s not, he’s just…” you trailed off, trying to find the words to explain why he was acting the way he was without telling them why he was acting the way he was. 

“It’s just hard for him, with his father in Azkaban,” you landed on. 

“I get it. I just don’t think it should be up to you to shoulder that burden, you know?” Sadie said, still using that same gentle tone of voice - the exact tone you imagined someone would use if they were telling someone their pet had died. 

“It’s not like that,” you said. Honestly, you wished he would let you bear a little bit more of the burden.

Sadie nodded, but there was a bit of pity in her eyes, like she was talking to a child who didn’t yet understand the way of the world. 

You felt a bit of indignance flare up in your chest as you saw the same look mirrored on Tracey’s face. Simon turned back to the board before you could see how he felt, but you could imagine his face wasn't that different. 

You watched the last bit of their game in sullen silence, the air around the five of you changing to a sort of lukewarm.

Simon won easily, and he and Sadie left to get dinner early. Tracey followed not far behind them, leaving just you and Sebastian in the common room. 

“You know I trust you, right?” Sebastian said after a little while. 

You looked up at him, surprised to find that his face wasn't narrowed with concern like everyone else’s had been. It was more open, inviting you in. 

You nodded. “Yeah, of course.”  
“Right. So, if you think getting back with Malfoy is a good idea… then maybe it is.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling your heart grow with thankfulness. 

“I mean, I don’t like him myself... but if you do, there must be something to him that I don’t see.”

“Thanks, Seb,” you murmured.   
“You haven’t called me Seb since first year.”  
“Maybe I’m feeling nostalgic.”

He grinned, but it fell off his face. 

“The rest of them just want what’s best for you. They saw how it was for you at the beginning of this year…”  
“Yeah, I get it,” you returned, “but I can take care of myself.”

He raised his eyebrows at you. “Well, aren’t you the Slytherin poster-child. That’s what friends are supposed to be, you know - people that help you take care of yourself.”

You smiled softly at him, all remaining annoyance melting off you. You often lauded Sebastian as the closest thing to a dumb jock that your friend group had, but sometimes he came out and said things like that, simple things that made you think for days. 

“Anyways. Dinner?”

He stood up, and you stood up with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we a full on accomplice now but don't worry bout it


	52. Christmas Party

It was the last Saturday before Christmas break, the common room password had changed to “tinsel,” and tomorrow, the Hogwarts Express would depart from the Hogsmeade station, carrying everyone back to the platform. 

Simon and Tracey were both going home. You and Sadie didn’t have that option, both of your parents being in hiding, and Sebastian had chosen to stay at the castle. 

He said it was because he liked the castle’s atmosphere during the holiday season, but you suspected the truth was closer to the fact that he just didn’t want to go through finding all his stuff and packing it. 

Either way, tonight was Slughorn’s Slug Club Christmas Party, and you found yourself strangely excited to go. It reminded you of getting ready for the Yule Ball, only this time, you hadn’t just gone through a horrible breakup. 

You had considered taking Draco, but considering the tensions between him and your friend group at the moment, you had decided that the safer route was just to take Sebastian along. 

Simon, who had gone to one of Slughorn’s latest dinners and had quite enjoyed getting puffed up by the professor, was obviously bringing Sadie. Neither Tracey nor her boyfriend, Michael, had received an invitation, though, so she was in your room watching you get ready and complaining.

You had decided on a dark green dress, and you let your hair down, running your fingers through it absentmindedly as you looked at yourself in the mirror. You smiled to see how well Draco’s necklace went with it and pulled on the signet ring that he had shrunk to fit you last year. 

You held up a faux-fur shawl to Tracey in the mirror. “Is this too much?”

She considered, cocking her head. “No, I like it. Goes with the whole understated glamour thing you have going on.”

You grinned, draping it over your shoulders. 

“Want to borrow those earrings I wore to the welcome feast?” Tracey asked.

“Oh, perfect, yes,” you mused, brushing your hair back behind your ears. 

As Tracey left, Sebastian burst in. He looked as handsome as always in his black dress robes, which he had paired with a dark green turtleneck. 

“I knew you’d wear that dress,” he said triumphantly, giving you a quick hug then sitting back on your bed. 

“You look nice,” you smiled.   
“So do you. I’m having flashbacks to the Yule Ball.”

Tracey reentered with her earrings, and Sadie and Sebastian were not far behind. You all exchanged compliments, and Tracey threw herself back on your bed, groaning dramatically. 

“Oh, stop that,” Sadie swatted at her, “it’ll probably be boring anyway. Go see Michael.”

She perked up at the thought of that, leaving the common room with you all and parting ways at the end of the hall. 

The party, much to your surprise, was anything but boring. Slughorn had pulled out all the stops, transforming his office with decorations and curtains and food piled high on every surface. Nicely dresses former Slug Club members mingled around, including a vampire who Sadie would not stop gushing about. 

You and Sebastian quickly fell into one of your oldest and most sacred traditions - watching other couples and gossiping while eating hor-devours. 

Blaise had taken Daphne Greengrass, to Sebastian’s horror - “I’m spit-brothers with Zabini now” - but you were just relieved he hadn’t taken Pansy. 

Hermione Granger had come with Cormac McLaggen, which had raised your eyebrows to the highest degree, but it quickly became apparent that she didn’t like him at all and that it was a ploy to make Ron jealous. 

“She has a bit of Slytherin in her, then,” Sebastian had nodded appreciatively.

“Please don’t try it on with Hermione.”  
“I wouldn’t!” Sebastian protested, but his grin told another story altogether. 

Harry had taken Luna Lovegood - or, as most Slytherins (and most of the school at large) called her, Loony Lovegood. She had announced the Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff game last week, and, to your surprise, it was one of the funniest things you had heard in a while. 

“Do you think he fancies her?” Sebastian asked you, and you considered for a moment before remembering how he had acted when Ginny came into the room at the first Slug Club meeting.

You grinned. “Oh, no. Harry fancies Ginny.”

Sebastian grinned back, pleased to have new information. You both took to staring at Ginny, who seemed to be looking over at Harry quite a lot even though she had brought Dean. 

You felt a little pang of sympathy for Dean - it was sort of the same situation that had happened when you two were dating, and you didn’t want him to get hurt again. 

So when Ginny excused herself to talk to Harry, you decided to go talk to him.

“Thomas,” you said, and he turned to you, smiling. 

He looked nice tonight, tall and broad-shouldered, his smile making his face a bit crooked in that way that had once given you butterflies. Now it just felt nostalgic, but good all the same. 

“(Y/L/N),” he replied, putting his drink down on one of the little tables nearby. 

“What are you drinking?”  
“Butterbeer. Keeping it tame tonight. You?”

You held up your glass, which was filled with Simon’s firewhiskey/pumpkin juice medley that you had somehow grown to like. 

“Simon’s invention. Calls it Pumpkin Whiskey.”  
“Inventive name. I’ll bet I could guess what’s inside.”

“You could,” you agreed, setting your drink down too. “How have you been?”

Dean shrugged. “As good as I can be, considering the circumstances.”

Dean’s mother was a muggle, but his father had never been in the picture, so nobody knew his blood status. His mother had gone into hiding at the beginning of the year, too, which was particularly sad because she didn’t completely understand the politics behind it and didn’t have magic to protect her.

“You?” Dean asked.  
“Same. Good, considering everything.”

He smiled at you, then, as if he was remembering something, asked, “how’s Malfoy?” 

He was just trying to be polite, but you appreciated the sentiment all the same. 

“He’s the same as well. It’s hard for him, with his father and everything -”

“His father deserves to be in Azkaban,” Dean said, daring you to challenge him.

“Of course he does,” you allowed, “but that doesn’t make it any easier, does it.”

Dean considered this for a second, then shrugged, picking up his drink and taking a sip of it. You knew the polite thing to do at this point would be to ask about Ginny, but seeing as she was still occupied with Harry at the moment, you weren’t sure what to say when he put his drink down. 

Before you could decide on something, you heard Harry laugh so hard he seemed to be choking - but, as you were turning to see what was so funny, the door to Slughorn’s office pounded open and revealed Filch’s withered, hunched form. 

To your surprise and alarm, he dragged in Draco after him, holding him quite roughly by the neck of his suit. 

Filch pulled Draco over to where Slughorn was talking to Harry and Luna - Ginny, as it seemed, had moved away from them in the commotion. 

Draco turned to look at you, his eyes flashing with something that seemed angry. You gave him a confused look back as Filch opened his mouth triumphantly to speak. 

Most of the people at the party hadn’t noticed the disturbance, still chatting, laughing, eating little pieces of bread and cheese, and listening to the Weird Sisters. You couldn’t make out exactly what Filch was saying over the noise of the crowd, but you heard Draco’s voice clearly when he broke in. 

“Alright, I wasn't invited! I was trying to gatecrash, happy?”

You cocked your head, confused. Draco was trying to gatecrash Slughorn’s party? Maybe he was angry that you had brought Sebastian with you instead of him, but that couldn’t be it - you had talked to him about that very subject, and he knew that everything between the two of you was strictly platonic and had been for five years. 

Filch was yelling something angrily and grinning at the same time, shifting in a terrible mosaic, but Slughorn waved a hand and said something that made all the joy drop from his face. 

Draco and Slughorn had a short exchange, and for a second, you hoped that he would be allowed to stay, but Snape dashed that hope quickly by taking him by the arm and escorting him back outside. 

You turned back to Dean, confused.

“What’s going on there?” He asked.  
“I don’t know.”  
“Was he really trying to gatecrash? Why didn’t you just bring him?” 

You knew Dean wasn't trying to be malicious, but you didn’t feel like explaining the politics of your friend group to him. You hated when people asked you questions about Draco that they expected you should know the answer to and you didn’t. It made your relationship feel cheap and fake, like everything Sadie had been saying to you lately was right. 

Speaking of Sadie, you looked up to see her and Simon both giving you odd looks. 

“He didn’t want to come,” you said to Dean, who looked a bit incredulous.

“Didn’t he just say to Slughorn that he did?”

“Well, maybe he changed his mind,” you said, tone a little colder than you meant it to be.

You excused yourself to find Sebastian - if anyone would pretend like that hadn’t happened and not try to give you a talking-to, it would be him. You caught him against the far wall, his eyebrows raised. 

“Don’t mention it,” you warned, and he grinned.

“The drama of it all,” he said, spreading his arms, “it’s like watching a movie, but it’s right here in front of my eyes.”

“I’m glad it amuses you,” you said, trying to mask your laughter with annoyance.

“It does. Makes me think you two should stay together forever.”

He flicked your necklace, as he had been prone to doing lately, and laughed. 

“Hang on,” he said, gesturing towards the door, “where’s Potter been?”

You turned to see that Harry had indeed just returned to the office from the hallway outside. 

“Bathrooms, probably,” you shrugged.  
“Is Ginny in here?” Sebastian asked.

You looked around, catching her red hair easily. 

“Yeah, just there. What, you thought they snuck out for a little hookup?”

“Did you see his face? He looked like he had just been up to something.”

You rolled your eyes, but Sebastian was hardly ever wrong about these things. An idea took shape in your mind. You knew how much Harry hated Draco - what if he had gone after him?

“Be back in a second,” you said to Simon, and breezed through the crowd and out into the hallway. 

It was much quieter and a lot darker outside than it was in Slughorn’s ornate office. You turned to your left and almost bumped into Professor Snape, who seemed like he had materialized out of nowhere. 

“Sorry, Professor,” you said.  
“Leaving the party so early?”  
“Just using the bathroom.” 

Snape surveyed you, then gave you a curt nod and went back into the party. 

You opened the door to the nearest classroom, sure that that was where he had come from.

You were right. Draco leaned against the far wall, staring into space. His eyes hardened when he saw you, and he shook his head almost imperceptibly. 

“Draco?”

You took a couple of steps toward him, trying to work out why he looked so angry at you. 

“Had enough of Dean Thomas for the night, have you?” He sneered. 

“What are you on about?”  
“I saw you. All over him, weren’t you.”

You were reminded of how he used to act towards you in fourth year, like that time he had pulled you into a corridor and demanded to know why you had cheered for Harry in the first task. Then, it had seemed silly and fleeting. 

Now, his words had a sharper edge to them, darker.

“I wasn't.”  
“Why were you even talking to him in the first place?”

“We’re friends, Draco.”  
“Sure you are.”

You shook your head slowly in disbelief, moving towards him until you were standing just in front of him. Close enough to touch if either of you reached out. 

“Do you honestly think I would get with anyone else right now?”

He shrugged.

“Why? Why would I do that? How many times have I told you I love you, Draco?”

“I bet Dean would say it back to you.”

“I don’t care whether you say it back to me. I don’t feel that way about anyone else. Just you.”

He scoffed. “I didn’t know you had to love someone to fuck them.”  
“Do you actually think I’m messing about with Dean Thomas?”

“Are you?”

“No,” you stressed, “and you know I’m not. You’re just looking for a reason to be angry at me.”

He looked at you stormily. You were right, of course, and he clearly resented the fact that you could read him, see through him so clearly. 

“Maybe I am.”  
“Why?”

He tried to push off from the wall, but you lay a hand on his chest, gently stopping him. 

“I know your friends don’t like me,” he said.  
“Your friends don’t like me, either,” you returned.

“Yeah, but it’s different, isn’t it? Because you actually care about your friends.”

“So you think Sadie’s going to tell me you aren’t worth the trouble, and I’m just going to believe her and fuck you off?”

“That’s exactly what I think.”

He made your head spin sometimes. His insecurity where you were concerned had always been glaringly obvious, but it had been a while since it had reared its head like this. You found it absurd that he thought you would even consider breaking up with him after all the things you had been through together. 

After all, you had gotten back together with him even though he was marked. You had listened to him talk about his deepest fears and the horrifying depths of his plan, had gone to the Room of Requirement with him and seen the cabinet with your own eyes. 

You had spent the past month and change fantasizing about finding a way to get him out of this situation, thinking about every possible way to stop the plan without hurting him. 

And he still believed that you weren’t entirely devoted to him. 

The first time you had ever told him you loved him, he had made you say it again and again as if he couldn’t quite believe it was true. You supposed that was a microcosm of his greater disbelief in the genuineness of your feelings. 

What had he said last year? _I’m biding my time with you._

It felt hopeless sometimes, proving him wrong, like he would still believe you were seconds away from walking out on him no matter what you did. It seemed strange for someone who usually exuded self-confidence to the point of arrogance to have this glaring spot of self-hatred. 

“Well, you’re wrong. I don’t know how to prove it to you more than I already have.” Your voice was quiet, begging him to believe you. 

He just stared back at you, unblinking. 

You took one more step towards him, so that you were almost pressed together, and looked down at his left forearm. 

You reached out to it, and he pulled away from you. You grabbed for it again, taking his wrist and pushing up the sleeve of his button-down. There it was, the Dark Mark, the snake twisting out of the skull like it was about to strike you. 

He tried to shrug you off him again, but you held fast, making yourself stare at it. 

“I’m still with you,” you said, hoping he would get what you were trying to say. “That’s on your arm, and I’m still with you.”

You looked up and met his eyes, which were flashing with something unsure, then pulled his sleeve down roughly, covering the mark again, and dropped his arm. 

“I hate it,” you said simply, and something like panic seeped into his expression. “I hate it and everything it stands for. You can’t imagine how much.”

He regarded you curiously, his hands shaking slightly at his sides. 

“I know you aren’t kind. You aren’t friendly. You’re barely good.” You took a breath. “But I’m still with you. I still love you. I’ve always tried with you.”

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you.

“Just tell me you know what that means,” you breathed, and there was a second of silence.

Then he reached his arms out and wrapped them around you, pulling you to him, and you leaned into him, reciprocating. You felt his cheek against the top of his head and noticed that his body was shaking. 

You curled your hand into the nape of his neck, hoping that all of these fractures would heal by Christmas, that you could pretend like things were normal for a week. 

But even if Draco stopped working on the cabinets, it didn’t seem likely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see you tomorrow! i'll give you a nice christmas (mostly) :)


	53. Thawing

It was only Christmas Eve, but the food was already unreal. You found yourself incredibly thankful that the pastries replenished as Sebastian started stacking his plate with cinnamon rolls. 

“Imagine if Simon was here,” Sadie said from next to you, “they would probably eat so much combined that they would break the charm.”

There was some sort of cinnamon-flavored drink this morning, something warm with an edge of chocolate to it. You and your friends didn’t converse that much after breakfast began - too much food in your mouths to talk. 

“Alright, well, I promised Simon that I would try to talk to him with that face in the fireplace thing,” Sadie said, adding that “he’ll be the one getting his face near the fire.”

You grinned as she left, and Sebastian sighed dramatically. 

“Forever alone,” he said, and you laughed. 

“I thought that was by choice?”  
“You’re right. I would hate to have to leave breakfast early to talk to anyone.”

You grinned at him. 

“Wanna have a chugging contest with the cinnamon drink?” He asked.  
“Do I look like Simon to you?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Draco get up and walk towards the exit. You shot Sebastian an apologetic look. 

“Alright, I get it. Everyone’s in love at Christmas.”

“Go get Meg or something,” you suggested, but he shook his head. 

“Too fresh.”

You grinned at him as you got up from the bench, grabbing some food and wrapping it in a little cloth before you left. 

“Knowing you,” you said, “you’ll find someone before the week is out.”

Then you went to catch up with Draco, who was waiting for you in the hallway. He smiled at you softly, and you were relieved to find that he looked genuinely happy and relaxed this morning.

You held out the food. “Should we go eat some more?”

“Astronomy Tower?”

Walking up to the Astronomy Tower was always more draining than you remembered - so many stairs - but the view was worth it. The snow on the surrounding hills glittered in the sunlight. 

You lay out a blanket and cast a warming charm, settling against his side and taking a cinnamon roll from the spread you had brought up. 

The world felt very quiet and calm as you ate, like there wasn't a thing alive besides the two of you. Draco’s side was warm against you. He wasn't eating, just staring out at the landscape, calm breaths. 

“You’re quiet,” you observed, and he turned to you with a smile. 

“So are you.”  
“How uncharacteristic of us.”

He smiled even wider then, one of those real smiles of his that made your heart jump. It was rare, him looking like this at you. 

It reminded you of the end of last year, before he had gotten the owl from his father. There had been a week there where it had seemed like everything was finally working out between you, like everything was perfect. 

Your smile must have faltered thinking about it. 

“Is something wrong?” Draco murmured.   
“No,” you said, “I just miss your smile.”

“I smile at you,” he said, though he sounded a bit unsure.

“Not like that.”

A sort of melancholy entered the air around you, and you grabbed his hand to dispel it. Maybe thinking about last year wasn't a bad thing at all - if it had been like that between you before, it could be like that again. 

You stood up, and he watched you warily. 

“Come on, get up,” you said, and he did, clearly confused. “Come over here.”

You walked towards the railing, and he came up beside you. The snow glittered wonderfully. You turned to face him and grabbed his hands in yours, guiding them to your waist and leaving them there. You looped your hands around his neck, taking a step closer to him so that you were lightly pressing together. 

You started swaying slightly. 

“What are you doing?”  
“Dancing. Come on.”

He raised his eyebrows. 

“There’s no music.”  
“Pretend the frog choir’s singing or something.”  
“You know I hate the frog choir,” he said.

You shrugged. “Then pretend that there’s an orchestra. Either way, we’re dancing.”

He shook his head at you, but you caught a slight smile on his face as he began to sway with you. He took the lead quickly, his hands tightening around your waist and pulling you closer into him. 

You leaned into the crook of his neck, smiling, thinking back to that day in your dorm room when you were supposed to be studying for OWLs, both half-naked, missing dinner. 

It seemed impossibly simple. 

“Are you thinking about last year?” You heard Draco say, and you looked up at him. 

“You remember that?”  
“I remember everything.”

You kept swaying, but it got clumsier and clumsier until it collapsed into a sort of embrace. You weren’t sad, but you felt a strange urge to cry. 

“I wish we could be that way again,” Draco said, and you nodded against his chest. 

“When this is all over, we can be,” you said.

You broke the hug, and he regarded you for a second. He wore a sad expression, looking as weather-worn as the Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement. 

“It’ll never be over,” he said softly, and you shook your head, confused.

“Of course it will.”

He walked away from you, sitting back down on the blanket. You followed. 

“No, it won’t.”  
“It will. The war will end,” you insisted.

He looked almost annoyed.

“Even if the war ends, even if Potter wins - which you so clearly want - what do you think that’ll mean for me and my family? We’re marked, both my father and I, and my mother may as well be. Do you think they’re going to just let us off?”

“Maybe if you joined -”

He shook his head. “We’d be killed. He’d kill us. You don’t understand.”

You sat down next to him. “So why are we together?”

“What?”  
“I mean, if you genuinely believe that the war will go on forever with us on opposite sides, then why do you bother with me?”

“I -”

“You know what I think? I think you’re hoping that there’s a way out for us, that we can find some way to fix things.”

He looked up at you, startled. He furrowed his brows, opening his mouth to deny it, but the wild glimmer of hope in his eyes had already confirmed it for you. 

“And there is. There must be. We can find it… we can get back to how it was before everything.”

You leaned into his side, and, after a second, he put his arm around your back. But he seemed sad, slow, like he was about to break horrible news to you.

“You know it won’t ever be the same as it was. You must know,” he whispered. 

“Why not?”

“Do you know why I didn’t go home for Christmas?”  
“Your father?”

He scoffed.

“Yeah, that’s the base of it. You know, he’s in my house. Using it as his base.”

You shuddered, thinking of how you would feel if the Dark Lord was living in your childhood home.

“That’s horrible.”  
“You know who else is there?”

You didn’t answer, just looked at him. 

“My mother. She - she took it pretty hard when my father got sent to Azkaban, you know. And now she’s there, alone.”

He shook his head, like he was clearing a thought, then continued. “Well, not _alone._ She has Bellatrix, and Avery, and the Carrows, and… Greyback, sometimes. But they aren’t like her. They want it. They believe everything he says, hang off his every word. Without my father there, how can she defend herself?”

His eyes started watering as they stared at yours. 

“And even when I’m home, she won’t let me - I’m not allowed to step in. I just have to _hear_ everything. Everything. She says it would be worse for me if I tried to stop it, but I can’t imagine...”

You had no idea where this was coming from, this outpouring of emotion, but you answered it by wrapping your arms around him, letting him rest his forehead against your shoulder. 

“It can’t be the same between us,” he whispered against you, “because I can’t let that happen to you, too.”

You held him for a while longer, then he looked up again, his sadness broken by resolve. 

“Do you understand what I’m telling you?” He asked, and you nodded. He told you anyway. 

“We’ll never be able to act that way outside of the castle because he can’t know that you’re important to me. And even here there are people that would tell him.”

“Pansy?”

“No, she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t do something that horrible; she wouldn’t want to put my family in danger. But Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise… I don’t trust them anymore.”

Your thoughts of dancing and hopes of returning to normal seemed very far away. 

“And when it happens,” Draco said, taking a deep breath as if he had been building up to this, “when I have to - you know. You can’t be anywhere near it. Promise me you won’t.”

“I hope it never happens,” you said, not even thinking about it, “I hope you never have to do it.”

“It’s the only way now.”

The sun hung high in the sky, the ice on the trees and the frost on the grass starting to melt, dripping their way onto the earth, creating little holes in the snowbank. 

You leaned against him again, breathing in his scent, taking in his eyes. He was perfect for Winter. Pale, cold, eyes just like ice. But you could feel him thawing beside you, ice melting off him. 

“I’ll do anything,” you said, tears in your eyes, “anything for you.”

He kissed you, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back. When you broke apart, he nudged your nose with his, then rested his forehead against yours. 

It took you a long time to get to sleep that night. 

It did not, however, take you very long to get up the next morning. 

“WAKE UP!” You heard someone shout, and before you could even process the words, a weight dropped on top of you. You groaned, pulling your arm out from under your sheets to swat at it groggily. 

Then a pillow knocked into the side of your head, and you shifted, blinking hard as you slowly sat up. You opened your eyes to see Sadie sitting on top of your legs, Sebastian next to your bed with a pillow in hand. 

You had half a mind to yell at them, but it was quickly overtaken by a mad joy that was reflected on their faces too. _Christmas._

You jumped out of bed, almost stepping on Kaya, who meowed mutinously. 

You had decided to have your Christmas morning in Sebastian and Simon’s room, seeing as they had a fireplace, and so the three of you ran down the stairs without another word. 

Surprisingly, Sebastian had done quite a good job with it. There was a fire roaring, a nice sized tree that you and Sadie had brought back from Hogsmeade yesterday, and he had even attempted to hang some ornaments and streamers from the ceiling. 

You sat around, tearing into the presents at Sebastian’s insistence. 

Sebastian gave you a broom cleaning kit, and Sadie had gone for a copy of the limited edition illustrated version of _Potions Opuscule,_ which you flipped through immediately. 

“Really, Sadie, you got her a book?” Sebastian said, but you handwaved him. 

“No, I wanted it. Thank you, Sadie.”

Sebastian was delighted by your gift to him - a sweater that was charmed to change color with his mood. It was bright yellow at the moment, which meant he was happy, but he was complaining that it looked far too Hufflepuff and that he would have to get jealous of something to turn it green. 

For Sadie, you had gotten a Pygmy Puff, which she immediately named Eddie and started playing with. 

Simon’s gift to you was a hastily scribbled coupon entitling you to one win against him in Wizard’s Chess, along with a card that promised you that your real gift was coming as soon as he thought of what to get you. Tracey had given you the earrings she had let you borrow for the Christmas party and a lovely drawing of you in your furry shawl. 

You felt your heart glowing with your gifts all around you, watching Sadie make sure Eddie went nowhere near the fire, but you felt a sort of sadness too. 

You had spent Christmas at Hogwarts twice in the five previous years, and both times your parents had sent you a long letter and a nice gift, and you had done the same. You felt their absence as a keen sting in your heart. 

Sebastian and Sadie went to get an early breakfast before the crowd showed up, and you let them go, wanting to see Draco. 

You entered his room without knocking, expecting that he would be asleep, and your suspicions were immediately confirmed. He was draped across his bed, blankets bunched up just above his waist, bare back moving up and down slightly with every breath. 

It was more messy than usual in here, and his curtains were drawn, making everything seem darker. 

_“Aperio,”_ you cast, and the curtains drew themselves, the morning sunlight shining down through the ice of the lake and into the room, illuminating the mess within. 

Then _“Mundus,”_ and you directed all the robes and shirts lying on his floor to their respective spots in the cabinets. 

A couple of _Tergeos_ and a _Scourgify_ cleaned up the surfaces on his desk, dresser, and bedside table, and a _Compono_ organized the books strewn about into a single pile, closing the haphazard drawers. 

Lastly, you used _Incendio_ to cast a small fire in the fireplace. 

You shrugged off your robes, hanging them on a little hook on the back of his door, then went and crawled into bed, still wearing your pajamas under them. He shifted, blinking himself awake as you wrapped your arms around him. 

“What?” He murmured, sleep apparent in his voice and his slow mannerisms. 

“It’s me,” you said, and he relaxed, slumping back against you. 

“Happy Christmas,” you whispered into his ear, and he opened his eyes a little more, taking himself out of that middle-state between awake and asleep. 

“It’s Christmas?”

You nodded. 

“I didn’t get you anything,” he said, sounding sad in an almost childish sort of way, “but I will. I will. I forgot it was today.”

 _How could you forget Christmas?_ You wondered, but he did have a lot on his mind lately. More than most.

“You don’t have to get me anything,” you said, sitting up a bit and producing a familiar box. “I just got you a little thing. Some honeysweets.”

He grinned, sitting up too, holding out his hand for you to drop some in. He popped them into his mouth, still looking sleepy, and you did the same. 

“Did you clean my room?” He said, looking around and noticing the transformation.

“Like I said, Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas,” he returned, giving you a strange expression. He leaned into you, touching his temple to yours. “Yeah, happy fucking Christmas,” he murmured. His bare chest glowed orange in the light of the fire. 

You weren’t sure who leaned in first, but your mouths pushed together all the same. He tasted like honey, and you stuck out your tongue to taste it on his. Your hand drifted down his chest, finding him hard in his pajama pants. 

You tugged them off along with his boxers, and he kicked them off the bed, reaching to take off your shirt, too. You weren’t wearing a bra, and your nipples hardened in the cold air. His eyes flashed with lust. 

You licked your palm and brought your hand back to his dick, stroking up and down a couple times, setting a pace. He cursed under his breath, tucking his fingers under the hem of your shorts, then under the hem of your underwear. 

His fingers danced around your entrance, and you whined, your hand stuttering around his dick. 

He leaned into your ear, whispering against it, his breath hot on your neck. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”

Then his finger was inside you, curling upwards, and you shivered with the feeling as he added another one, pressing patterns into your clit with his thumb. You picked up the pace of your strokes around his dick, relishing the way his breath hitched against your ear. 

As you got each other off, he leaned into your chest, sucking a mark into your breast. You moaned outright at that, and he chuckled, licking over it. He took your nipple in your mouth, sucking until it hardened. Then he bit at it. 

_“Fuck,”_ you whispered, and he chuckled darkly against you, thrusting his fingers deeper inside of you. 

“I’m making you curse now?” He asked, but before you could answer, he pulled his fingers out of you and pulled your shorts down your thighs. Surprised, your hand stilled on his dick. 

He grinned, kissing the mark he had left on your breast before using his hands on your waist to flip you over so that you were lying facedown on his mattress. 

“Hands and knees,” he whispered, and your eyes widened. 

You did as you were told, positioning your body so that you were on all fours on his bed. You leaned down on your elbows to arch your back and felt him positioning himself against you. 

You felt his tip close to your entrance, but he waited, his hands ghosting over your skin, making you shudder. You whined, wanting him inside you, and pushed back against him. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, his voice low and dark, “you’ve been fucking waiting.”

Then his hands pressed into your waist. 

And he slammed into you. 

Your body rocked at first, and you cried out, trying to steady yourself as he pulled out and slammed back in. He set a punishing pace, pounding into you, and you were trying so hard to keep your body steady that you weren’t paying attention to the sounds coming out of your mouth. 

You were whining, mewling, keening, pushing your hips back against him every time he rocked into you. Your breaths got raggedy as he kept hitting that spot. You would never get enough of the feeling of him filling you up, the sounds of your skin slapping against his every time he hit into you. 

He was cursing too, his breath hitching. His hands traveled from your waist to your breasts, squeezing, and you cried out again, bowing your head. 

Your legs started shaking, and soon your arms did too. He was relentless, merciless, and your body couldn’t take much more of it. 

One of your arms gave out slightly, and you whimpered as you propped yourself back up, steeling yourself. 

“Come on,” Draco breathed, “don’t worry, I have you.”

He wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you up himself so that you didn’t have to. You still tried to keep your body in the air, tears flowing freely from your eyes with the effort it took coupled with the feeling that Draco was giving you. 

“Let go,” he promised, “I have you.”

You let go, your legs buckling, but his arm around your waist kept pulling you to him, still fucking into you even though you felt like your body was made solely of slack muscle. 

“Let go,” he repeated, and you squeezed your eyes shut as you came. 

It felt like the room was collapsing around you. You felt him thrust deep inside you one more time, reaching his own high, then he pulled out of you, letting his arm around your waist go. 

You fell into his mattress, and he collapsed beside you, maneuvering you so that you were lying side by side, face to face. He leaned back towards his bedside table for a second, grabbing the box of honeysweets and popping one in his mouth. He grabbed one for you, too.

He kissed you again. Honey.

“I smelled it in my Amortentia,” you said, “it was honey, vanilla, and broom polish.”

He looked back at you, a soft smile on his face. “You said it was me.”

“It _is_ you. Honey for honeysweets, broom polish for Quidditch, and vanilla - that’s how you smell. A bit of vanilla.”

He leaned back into bed, pulling you down with him so that you were lying side by side, facing each other. He tangled his hand in your hair, still looking tired, and closed his eyes. 

“Mine smelled just like you. You all over,” he murmured. “It was horrible. I thought I wouldn’t be able to step away from it, and I thought you hated me.”

“I didn’t hate you.”

“You should have,” he said simply. 

You were about to correct him, to remind him how much you cared about him for the millionth time - you found you didn’t mind reminding him today, didn’t mind soothing his little insecurities as you tangled together in his bed - but he spoke again before you could. 

“But you didn’t.”

You pulled him closer to you, nuzzling against him. There was silence for a long time, and you felt yourself get drowsy, pulled towards sleep. Both your breathing had steadied, getting longer and slower. Tired. 

“I don’t know what I would do if you hated me,” he whispered to you as if he was voicing his innermost thoughts aloud. 

You stroked his hair, running your fingers through it, and he sighed into you. 

“Everyone sees you. You’re the only one who sees me,” he confided. 

It was a sad thing to say, lonely and terrible, but he said it in a tone filled with hope. As if anyone seeing the real him at all was the most perfectly unexpected thing in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you as always for comments/kudos :)


	54. Poison

“Did you hear?” Sebastian said, dropping into the seat beside you. You looked up at him between bites of toast. 

“Hear what?”

“Ron Weasley’s in the hospital wing. Potter’s gonna play McLaggen against Hufflepuff Saturday.”

You laughed. McLaggen would be an absolute disaster, which was a good thing - Gryffindor had to lose this match if Slytherin wanted even a chance at winning the cup. 

“What’s wrong with Ron?” You asked casually, reaching for some jam across the table. 

Sebastian shrugged. “Not sure. Whatever it was, it happened yesterday - his birthday, apparently. And it was bad enough that Hermione came to see him in the hospital wing.”

You found yourself interested in the situation - after all, you and Sebastian were heavily invested in the drama of all the relationships in the school, and that included Ron and Hermione dancing around each other. 

“How do you know all this?”

“Just overheard Lavender and Parvati talking about it in the library. I would say they should be quieter, but I quite enjoy their takes on the Gryffindor drama.”

You hummed, popped a raspberry in your mouth, and read over your Transfiguration notes one more time. 

You had a practice exam this morning - you had to turn your hair blue. You had gotten it right a couple of times practicing in the mirror, but Human Transfiguration was a tricky bit of magic, and you were worried that you wouldn’t be able to do it when it counted. 

McGonagall was walking around to each desk and watching people do it one by one, so everyone was having side conversations as she made her way around the room. You were sitting with Sadie, who had no problems with the spell. Things were good between you at the moment, but maybe that was just because she hadn’t seen you and Draco together lately. 

You scanned the room for him but didn’t see him anywhere. Skipping, probably up in the Room of Requirement. You sighed. 

Parvati and her twin, Padma, were sitting in front of you, talking loudly enough that you could hear every word coming out of their mouths. This was par for the course, and you had become quite adept at tuning them out, but you remembered that Sebastian said he learned about the Ron situation from them. 

“Parvati,” you whispered, and she turned around, fixing you a strange expression that was clearly wondering why on earth you were speaking to her.

Outside of DA, you had never had a conversation, and, come to think of it, you weren’t sure you had ever had a conversation inside DA, either. 

But the damage was already done, so you might as well follow through. 

“What happened with Ron?” You asked. Her face transformed from confusion to anticipation as she realized that she would get to tell the story to someone else. 

“Well,” she started, “ _apparently,_ he took some love potions or something. Harry took him to Slughorn’s, of course, but instead of helping him, Slughorn poisoned him. If you ask me, he’s trying to ruin Gryffindor’s chances of beating Hufflepuff Saturday. He used to be head of Slytherin, you know - well, I guess you would know.”

She turned around as McGonagall approached her table. You watched passively as she tried to turn her hair pink but only succeeded in lightening the ends. Her twin had better results - Padma turned her hair a mousy brown shade quite easily. 

You couldn’t imagine Slughorn poisoning Ron. It seemed like just the type of thing that Parvati would make up to make her story more interesting. Maybe he was just dosed with love potion - but then, _you_ had been dosed with love potion last year, and you had only needed to spend a single night in the hospital. 

Something else must have happened to Ron afterward - maybe he was poisoned, but it couldn’t have been Slughorn that did it. Or Harry. Perhaps it was an accident, or maybe…

But then the thought struck you. 

_Poison._

Surely he hadn’t. Wouldn’t he have told you? Didn’t you tell him not to, didn’t you warn him it would be stupid and reckless?

But your heart was already beating harder, your mind rushing ahead of you, jumping to conclusions with ease. 

“Are you alright?” Sadie hissed at you, gesturing towards McGonagall, who was about to walk over to your table. 

“Remember, Anderson, you need to have an emotional concentration to be able to pull this spell off. It didn’t work because you’re disconnected from the state you want to transform to,” she was saying.

McGonagall reached your table, parchment and quill hovering in the air beside her. Sadie went first, succeeding in turning her hair a bright canary yellow. You tried to calm your growing unease as McGonagall motioned towards you, telling yourself to focus. 

You pointed your wand at your head, picturing yourself with the bright blue hair you had been practicing and saying the incantation in as clear of a voice as you could muster.

“Excellent, Ms. (Y/L/N),” McGonagall said, and you opened your eyes, “but I thought you intended to turn your hair blue?”

You looked down at your hair, surprised. You _had_ been trying to turn it blue. But it wasn't blue at all, no, it was platinum blonde. Almost silvery. 

“I changed my mind,” you muttered, and McGonagall nodded.  
“Just as well. Fine work.”

She moved on, and you avoided Sadie’s eyes. _You need to have an emotional concentration to be able to pull this spell off._ Well, you certainly had that. 

You stalked up to the seventh floor after class, too shaken to try turning your hair back to its regular color. If Draco had skipped class, there was only one place he could be. Your certainty that he had something to do with this, that he had poisoned Ron, grew with every step you took. 

You ran up the stairs, hand lightly trailing the railings, seething, prepared to barge into the Room of Requirement if you had to. 

You turned the corner into the corridor and saw him walking away in the other direction - you must have caught him just after he left the room. 

“Draco!” You called, and he turned around. 

He smiled slightly at the sight of you, but your expression must have read with anger, because it dropped off his face. 

“Why’s your hair my color?”

You marched up to him, shaking. He looked wary and confused, a bit tired. You could imagine that his seemingly fruitless efforts to fix the cabinet were incredibly draining, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel bad for him now.

“Was it you who poisoned Ron?”  
“Someone poisoned Weasley?”  
 _“Was it you?”_

He shook his head quickly, taken aback, and took a step back from you. 

“No, no, I - why would I try to poison him?”

“It was Slughorn. Slughorn gave him something, and he drank it, and it had poison in it. Tell me right now if it was you, Draco.”

His eyes widened. You knew before he even said it. 

“I didn’t mean -”  
“It’s your fault?”  
“It was meant for...”

You could have screamed. You felt your whole body shaking. He had hurt someone else, almost killed him, and it was Ron, and you _knew_ Ron, you had joked with him before, shared a bunch of classes, had casual conversations. 

“I told you not to try poison. I warned you, didn’t I? I told you that you would end up hurting someone else!”

“I had to try it!”  
“No, you didn’t!”

He put his head in his hands quickly, gripping at a piece of his hair, then looked back up at you. 

“Yes, I did. The cabinet isn’t working. I can’t fix it. I just needed something; I needed to try something...”

“And you didn’t care whether you killed someone trying?”

“I didn’t think like that -”  
“You should have! I told you it would!”

He shook his head, curling his hands into fists. You could see him getting angry, but you were already there, in disbelief, shocked and enraged that he would go against your advice, your warnings, in such a reckless, desperate way. 

“It would have killed someone either way!” He shouted.

“So it doesn’t matter how many people you finish off to get there anymore?”

His eyes flashed, real anger now. 

“It doesn’t matter that you almost killed Ron?” You yelled.  
“Why are you so angry about this?”

You could feel your body tense at that. 

“It’s not about me! It’s about you being dangerous and reckless and stupid! What would you do if you _had_ killed him? How could you possibly live with that?”

“I’ll have to live with it anyway!”

“What, so you might as well just off every man, woman, and child in the castle in the meantime as a practice run?”

He hardened, taking a step towards you. 

“Do not touch me,” you warned.  
“You know I didn’t mean to,” he growled, his tone more sinister than soothing. 

“But you did! Ron is in the hospital wing, and it’s your fault!”

“Since when do you care about Weasley?”  
“Don’t turn this on me. You hurt him.”

“You’re fucking with blood-traitors now?”

Your hot anger dissolved, hardening into a cold rage. It was like you were frozen, staring at him, and he suddenly looked unrecognizable. 

You didn’t have the urge to yell at him, to grab at his robes, to flip him off and stalk away like you usually did when you two argued. Instead, you felt like you were suddenly disillusioned. You looked down at your hair, watching it fade from the platinum blonde to its standard shade. 

You looked back up at Draco to see that the rage had melted off his face, too, leaving a sort of panic in its place. 

“I didn’t mean -” He started, but you shook your head. 

“Of course you meant me. That’s exactly what I am.”

“I would never call you that.”  
“You just did.”

“No, I meant -”

“What’s the difference, really?” You shrugged, taking a casual step back from him. His hands were shaking at his sides. “Between calling Ron a blood-traitor and calling me a blood-traitor. It’s clearly what you think.”

He shook his head immediately, raising one of his hands and reaching out towards you. You regarded it coolly, and he let it drop. 

“That’s not how I think of you,” he said. 

“That’s not how you should think of anyone.”

You had had this fight before - or similar ones, at least - but they had never really fallen into this personal territory, and you hadn’t fought about it since the beginning of fifth year, really. You had allowed yourself to think that he was changing, that you were changing him for the better, helping him see the reality of the world outside of the prejudices his father had fed him. 

“You know I’m trying…” he said.

“You aren’t trying very hard,” you returned, in no mood to be gentle with him. “It’s been years.”

“I’m not - like that. Anymore. I’m not,” he struggled through his words. 

“You make that very hard to believe sometimes.”

Knowing you had nothing left to say to him, you turned and walked away. He didn’t try to stop you. You couldn’t escape the feeling, as you walked through the halls, that something had broken between you in a way that you weren’t sure it had before.


	55. Sectumsempra

“Sort of a… lizard, maybe? Looks like a sperm with four little lines coming out of it.” Sebastian trailed off, staring at one of the notecards in his hand. 

“The Salamander?” Simon asked.

Sebastian scrutinized the card. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Right, so… six,” Simon murmured, writing something down in his notebook. 

Usually, Sadie helped Simon study for Ancient Runes, but she was up in the Owlery, so Sebastian had subbed in until she got back. Unfortunately, he wasn't much of a dab-hand at describing the symbols for Simon to translate. 

Tracey was asleep in a chair, having stayed up all of last night cramming for a History of Magic exam that made you all too happy to have stopped taking the subject. 

The common room was pretty empty for it being Saturday morning, especially because there was no Quidditch today. Still, the fire was warm, and you liked studying better down here, anyway, even if you got a lot less done than you would if you were by yourself. 

“Okay, then, this one is a square with two lines coming out the bottom.”

“Two lines?”

“Yeah. They’re like, continuing the square, though. Sort of like an X with a diamond.”

Simon looked up, an expression of pure confusion on his face. “Show it to me.”

“I thought the point was that you weren’t allowed to see it.”

“Well, you’re doing a terrible job explaining.”

Sebastian flipped the card around. 

“That’s _othila,”_ Simon said, leaning down to scribble something on his parchment. 

Sebastian shot you a look, and you returned it - you had no idea how people understood Ancient Runes, much less did well in it. Not that Simon did exceptionally well in it - his natural intellect could only take him so far, and his penchant for laziness didn’t exactly pave the rest of the way. He held out his paper in front of him, squinting to read it in the low light of the fire.

“Okay, so six estates - or maybe six possessions?”

He tossed the paper down onto a table, groaning theatrically and waking Tracey up. 

“Fuck me, why did I take this subject? I’m going to bed. Send Sadie in when she gets back, will you?”

“You’re going to bed?” Sebastian asked, “It’s not even lunchtime yet.”

He got up, yawned, flipped Sebastian off, and walked out of the common room. 

“He’s cheery this morning,” Sebastian chuckled.

“Maybe it’s because he only had three pieces of bacon at breakfast instead of the usual five,” you laughed back. 

You caught Sadie coming into the common room as you went to get lunch and told her Simon wanted her in his room. 

“Him and his post-Ancient Runes naps. The subject puts him to sleep,” she said.

“Yeah,” Sebastian said suggestively, “I’m sure you two will be doing a lot of sleeping.”

She punched him. 

You sat down at the table in the Great Hall, eyes instinctively flicking down the table to where you knew Draco would be sitting. Sure enough, there he was, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, across the table from Blaise and Daphne Greengrass.

You remembered what he had said to you - that he didn’t trust any of them anymore. 

He must be really lonely, now, then, because you hadn’t spoken to him in two weeks. There had been plenty of times where you had wanted to, lying awake, thinking of going down to his room. But you always thought back to that feeling you had walking away from him, like something had shifted irreparably. 

And this time, you wouldn’t be the one putting in the work to repair it.

As you bit into an apple, you heard an uproar from the Gryffindor table. You turned around to see a group of them standing up from the table, yelling something as they made their way towards the entrance. 

“Katie, you’re back!” You heard Hermione say, and you wheeled your head around to see that, indeed, Katie Bell herself was standing by the entrance to the Great Hall, smiling softly and opening her arms for one of her friends to hug her. 

You felt simultaneous relief and terrible fear. She was alive; she lived; Draco hadn’t killed her. But if she remembered who had tried… if they connected it back to him…

You shot your eyes back down the table and saw that Draco was standing too, a look of pure fear painted across his face. He got up, almost running towards the exit of the Great Hall, and your eyes tracked him. 

You watched his face melt, then his back was to you, and he was rushing out of the hall, accidentally knocking Katie’s friend Leanne in the shoulder. 

This action did not go unnoticed by Harry, who looked after Draco as he left. You stood up too. 

“No, don’t,” Tracey hissed. “He’s not worth it.”

“Something is seriously wrong with him, Tracey, you don’t understand. I have to.”

Sebastian stood too, steadying you with a hand on your shoulder. “Listen, I really don’t think… I mean, you said he called you a blood-traitor two weeks ago.”

Tracey choked on her bite of food, glaring at you. “He did _what?”_

“Sebastian, I said not to tell anyone that!” You raged, trying to shake out of his grip. 

“He called you a blood-traitor?” Tracey practically shouted. 

You shook your head emphatically. “No, not me. It was - I’ll explain it later, I shouldn’t have said anything. I need to go after him.”

Tracey stood too, so now all three of you were on your feet, causing quite the scene. “But he called _someone_ a blood-traitor. I expect that’s why you haven’t spoken to him lately?”

“Sebastian, let go of my arm.”

Sebastian sighed. “(Y/N)...”

“I thought you said you trusted me,” you hissed, “you don’t understand, I just need to go after him, okay? I’ll explain it later.”

Sebastian took his arm off your shoulder but looked at you with a sort of pity on his face that made your chest squeeze. “I won’t hold out for the explanation,” he said in a tone that you suspected was the closest to cold he could get. 

You stepped out from the bench, striding down the Great Hall, noticing that Harry was no longer amongst the crowd around Katie. You shot a look back to your friends, who were staring at you with twin expressions of confusion and distaste. 

You felt your chest compress again, and you dug your nails into your palms as you made your way to the second floor. Draco had looked like he was about to cry, and there was only one place you had seen him shedding tears like that. 

You expected to hear the crooning tones of Moaning Myrtle fawning over him, telling him that he was smart and perfect and that he could figure out the cabinets with no trouble. 

But as you turned the corner towards the bathroom, you were surprised to hear a shout followed by the distinctive sound of something breaking. 

Heart racing, you slammed open the door. 

It was a shocking scene. One of the sinks had broken, and it was spurting water everywhere, flooding the floor and, now that the door was open, leaking out into the hallway. The midday sun streamed through the windows, illuminating the horror of the situation with an optimistic, romantic pattern of diffused light. 

The juxtaposition made everything worse. 

Harry and Draco both had their wands drawn - from the looks of things, someone had already broken the sink. 

Harry flicked his wand meaningfully, looking more murderous than you had ever seen him, but Draco managed to swipe his hex aside with a shout. 

Myrtle was wailing in the corner, draped against the walls, her cries echoing around the room. 

“Stop! STOP IT!” She shouted, and you would have joined her if you weren’t frozen in shock. 

A box behind Harry exploded with a bang that made your heart race even more, and Harry growled as he ran closer to Malfoy, shooting something back that crashed into the floor, cracking it slightly, and the flooding water poured into the tile. 

You made your feet move, raising your wand, too, intending to step in between them, but the water pouring onto the floor made your feet unsteady. 

“Draco!” You called, but he either didn’t see you or didn’t care, and he raised his wand again, sending a red light through the air that ricocheted across the stalls. 

“Harry, stop!” You tried, but he ignored you too, firing off something else that Draco just barely dodged. 

“STOP!” Myrtle yelled, or maybe it was you, your heart was running like crazy and you couldn’t believe what you were witnessing, didn’t know how to stop it - and, if you couldn’t, you were sure it would end up with one of them seriously hurt. 

Draco’s face tightened with rage, and he raised his wand with a vengeance. 

_“Cruci -”_ he began, and your jaw dropped, surely he wouldn’t try to use an Unforgivable, surely he wouldn’t… 

But your horror at his apparent cruelty turned quickly to horror for a different reason. 

Harry had yelled something back at Draco, a spell you didn’t recognize, something you hadn’t heard before. For a second, Draco froze, like he was suspended in the air. 

Then the blood started. 

It was like someone had carved out his chest. Lines of red spread across his skin, seeping into his shirt, which was already soaked with the water spurting out of the broken sink. 

It leaked out of his body, and he sunk to his knees, his face contorted in pain. He hit the ground with a splash, the water rippling around him and lapping up against his body, collecting the blood pouring out of him and spreading it around the bathroom. 

You had cheered and sobbed and whimpered before. You had raised your voice to yell countless times. But you had never screamed like this before - no words, just a long cry, wailing.

You didn’t hear yourself at first, and once you did you could barely believe the sounds were coming from you, leaving your mouth. 

You felt your whole body shaking as you ran to him, the water splashing up against you, seeping into your skin as you threw your body next to him, all thoughts of anger and annoyance at him so far away that they may well have not existed in the first place. 

His hand was limp. He dropped his wand. He was looking at you, but his expression didn’t change, like he couldn’t see you at all, couldn’t make out your face. 

You grabbed him, shaking him, and he groaned in pain, opening his mouth to try to say something, but no sounds came out. 

“WAKE UP!” You heard yourself shout, and it seemed so stupid, so pointless to say, because he was obviously dying. 

The water around him, around you, was bright red, and the blood kept pouring out of his chest. You felt lightheaded. It seemed impossible for him to have been holding this much blood in his body. How much did he have left? 

“Do something,” you said to yourself, unsure whether or not you were speaking out loud. 

Your hands shook wildly as you ripped his shirt open, and you let out another sob of despair when you saw his chest. There was so much blood pooling, bubbling out of the slashes around his chest. 

“Oh god, please wake up, please _wake up,”_ you chanted, gripping your wand with white knuckles, trying desperately to think of any spells you knew. 

You could only think of that one that Tracey had used on Sadie second year when she broke her nose in a pickup game, and you dug your nails into your palm. 

_If you don’t think of something, he’ll die._

But it seemed like, no matter what you did, he would die anyway. His eyes were closed now, whatever he was going to say was frozen on his lips, and you had a terrible thought that he might already be gone. 

You gripped his wrist, sobbing as you felt for a pulse, and there it was, there it was, he was still here. 

You stared at his hand and remembered with a jump the spell that Blaise had used on you when Umbridge had carved your hand. That had felt like the worst pain possible, but now it seemed silly that you had felt any pain at all compared to this.

You directed your wand at his chest, hands still shaking. 

_“V - vulnera Sanentur,”_ you said, staring at the blood pooling on his chest. 

You couldn’t tell if it was working, there was too much blood to begin with, but you kept saying it, obsessively pointing your wand at his chest, over and over, over and over again, until you thought you saw it clotting slightly.

“Wake up, please,” you whispered between spells, trying desperately to stop your hands from shaking, trying desperately to think of something else, something that might work better. 

Then you felt hands shoving you aside. 

You screamed again. “No!”

“I said _I will handle this,”_ Snape said, and you snapped your head up to see the professor standing over you, a curious expression on his face. 

“Please, professor, he - I don’t know what he did -”

You turned to Harry, fixing him with the harshest glare you could muster while still in tears. 

“He won’t wake up, he’s - I tried to help, I don’t know if it worked, there’s too much blood to tell, it’s everywhere, I…”

But Snape wasn't paying attention to you. He knelt next to Draco’s body, taking his wand out and murmuring something over him that you didn’t understand, some sort of other language that you had never heard before. 

You were next to Draco’s head now, but you couldn’t bear looking down at it - what if he never opened his eyes, what if the words he had been about to say never left his lips?

But whatever Snape was doing seemed to be working. The blood stopped flowing, or at least eased, and Snape cleaned the remnants of it, too, discarding Draco’s shirt. 

You watched as the slash marks on his chest seemed to close on their own, working their way back together, and you allowed yourself to exhale, hearing how shaky your breath was, convulsing with sobs. 

Myrtle was crying too, saying something about murder, and Harry just looked shellshocked, frozen and horrified. You felt a lick of rage in your chest as you looked at him. _He had done this._

Snape muttered something different, his wand still moving methodically over Draco’s chest, and you allowed yourself to glance down at his face. Your heart lifted as you saw his eyelashes fluttering. 

Snape turned to look at you. “He’ll need the hospital wing. Dittany. If we get it on quickly, there might not be as much scarring. Do you hear me, Draco?”

Draco’s head moved almost imperceptibly. A nod. 

You let out a relieved sob, rising to your feet with Snape, who scooped Draco into his arms. 

“And you, Potter…. You wait here for me,” he said.

You had half a mind to go with Snape as he left, but the look on Harry’s face made you stay. As Snape left the bathroom, you stalked over to him, aware that you were soaked and covered in Draco’s blood. 

“How dare you,” you growled, “how _could you!?”_

“I - I didn’t mean -”  
“Then why did you cast it?”

Your rather formidable anger had him taken aback, and he took a step away from you, splashing in the water. You took a step towards him to make up for the space, having half a mind to curse him right back, to make him sorry. 

“I had no idea what it would do,” he said, looking desperate. 

“Oh, and you just cast it anyway? How did you even know what it was?”

“I read it in a book -”  
“And the book didn’t explain what would happen?”

“No -”

“And you used it anyway! What if it had killed him? It could have, it _would have killed him_ if Snape hadn’t come in!”

“I swear, I didn’t know what it would do!”

“You think you’re so much better than him, don’t you!” You raged. “Always the hero, aren’t you! I’m sure none of your groupies will care much that you almost killed him, will they? No, people like him don’t matter to you!”

His brow flickered with anger too. 

“He chose the wrong side!” He shouted at you. 

“We don’t all get choices, Harry! Just because it’s easy for you to be moral!”

“He’s always been horrible, always the bully, always spreading his fucking prejudices around the whole school! Or have you forgotten? You know what he is!”

You shook your head. 

“I know what he isn’t.”

Then you turned heel, splashing out of the bathroom and into the hallway, running as fast as you could, just wanting to get away from Harry and Myrtle and the blood that was still mixing with the water and the sink spurting it. 

You ran towards the hospital wing, bumping into anyone who didn’t get out of your way, hands shaking with rage, feeling like you could throw up just thinking about how he had looked lying there, how it had seemed like he would never get up again. 

“(Y/N)!” You heard someone say, and looked up to see Tracey and Sebastian standing in front of you in the hall, looking shocked. 

You ignored them, kept running, needing to get to the hospital wing, to make sure that Snape wasn't lying, that he would be okay. 

“Why are you bleeding?” Tracey yelled after you, but you didn’t respond. 

You must look a right mess, dripping water everywhere, your robes and sweater soaked with Draco’s blood, your hair matted, your hand gripping your wand like it was a float and you were drowning. 

Madam Pomfrey rushed up to you as soon as she saw you. 

“Are you hurt?”

“No, it’s not mine,” you said, feeling tears stinging at your eyes anew. Her eyes softened, recognizing where you had come from. “Where is he?”

“Mr. Malfoy can’t have visitors,” she said, but her eyes flicked towards a door on her right, and you ran through it before she could stop you. 

Snape was standing over a bed at the end of the wing. He turned to you, fixing you with a strange expression before Madam Pomfrey burst in after you. 

“You aren’t allowed in here!” She shouted. 

You turned around desperately, surprised to find Snape catching your eye. He looked towards Madam Pomfrey with his usual blank expression. 

“Poppy, if you don’t mind, I have some unfinished business I need to tend to. Perhaps Ms. (Y/L/N) could watch Mr. Malfoy while I do?” He phrased it as a question, but it wasn't. 

Madam Pomfrey looked at a loss for a brief moment, then shook her head in annoyance. “If you must, Professor,” she said, then left again. 

Without another word to you, Snape breezed out of the hospital wing, leaving you to turn back towards Draco. The dittany glowed on his chest, and you could already see his wounds knitting together, the skin growing back. He opened his eyes and regarded you. 

You felt a jolt in your chest and reached out to him, tears pouring down your cheeks. 

“I thought -” you started, but he shook his head, so you stopped.

You pulled up your chair closer to him, leaning into him, wrapping your arms around his torso. He winced. You tried to pull away, scared you would hurt him more, but he grabbed your arm.

“Just stay,” he said.

You did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick way to get your girlfriend to forgive you: almost die


	56. The Bird

Draco leaned against you slightly as you stepped in front of the wall leading to the dungeons. It was the first time you had been down here in almost a week.

Madam Pomfrey had tried to make you leave the hospital wing at every chance she got, but every time you thought about leaving his side, you pictured how his body had looked on the bathroom floor, mangled and wet with blood. 

How could you leave him? What if, even though the cuts on his chest had healed, something inside him was messed up? 

You had voiced all these concerns to Madam Pomfrey, who had waved them all aside, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to leave him. 

He hadn’t spoken much for the first two days - he was asleep more often than he was awake. Madam Pomfrey had assured you that this was quite normal, that undergoing such stress on his skin and internal organs would cause exhaustion even after healing. 

On the third day, he started speaking to you more, asking you what exactly had happened. You thought you might throw up as you recounted it, but he had just looked blankly at you, as if you were talking about Divination homework. 

“Do you remember anything about it?” You asked once you were done.

He nodded. “Yeah, sort of. I remember Harry shouting something at me. And I remember the sink breaking. And then, after that… I sort of just - well, I remember you. Or your voice, anyway. Yelling something.”

By the fifth day, he was healed enough to leave, but Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping him for one more night to make sure that he wouldn’t experience any side effects from whatever potions she had him taking. 

On the sixth morning, you thought you might need to have a stay in the hospital wing yourself - your back was aching from sleeping in a chair again. 

Draco had tried to pull you up into his bed, but it was too small to lie side by side, and you could tell he was still in a bit of pain, so you didn’t want to lie on top of his chest. 

Snape had come to discharge Draco and informed him that he had ‘dealt’ with Potter. He had given Harry detentions every Saturday until the end of term, including the upcoming Saturday, the last Quidditch match of the year. 

You thought that might cheer Draco up, but his face remained at a complete impasse. 

After that, Snape gave you a curious look and asked if you had been back down to the dungeons since Draco had been admitted to the hospital wing. 

“No, I’ve been here,” you replied, daring him to say anything about it.

“Then you’ll need the password,” he said, “I believe it’s ‘nettles.’”

“Nettles,” you said to the blank wall, and it transformed into the passageway down to the common room. You looked up at Draco, who still looked like there wasn't a single thought in his head. 

You gripped his hand tightly as you stepped into the passageway, and he followed you down it. 

The warm spring air, slowly drifting into summer, had long-since melted the ice on the top of the lake, and the sun was shining so strongly today that the common room could have been as bright as the top of the Astronomy Tower. 

It was lively, too, groups of students sitting around and studying, laughing, playing Wizard’s Chess. You scanned the room for your friends and found Sadie and Tracey seated in the corner, parchment out. 

“They’re back,” you heard someone say, and you turned around to see Daphne Greengrass staring at you. 

You gave her a quick look of disdain - you weren’t even friends, she had no business announcing your presence to the common room - and started walking towards the boys’ hallway. 

As you made your way towards the door, you caught quite a few groups of students turning to stare at you, eyes flicking down to your interlocked hands, whispers and laughter floating up into the air. 

It wasn't like you and Draco were the most anonymous couple at Hogwarts - both of you were on the Quidditch team (or had been, in Draco’s case), so everyone at least knew of you - and Draco was notorious for a couple more reasons, not all of them good. 

Besides, you were sure there were rumors abound about what had happened last Saturday. After all, you had run through the halls with his blood all over you minutes after Snape had carried his body up to the hospital wing. 

You were determined to ignore them. 

But Tracey and Sadie, who were sitting near the boys’ hallway entrance, were unwilling to let you by. 

Tracey nudged Sadie, who looked up and immediately got to her feet. 

“(Y/N)?” She said, a tinge of nervousness in her voice. Very unlike her. 

“I’ll talk to you later,” you replied. 

Tracey stood up too. 

“That’s what you said Saturday. We haven’t seen you in a week. We’ve been worried sick.”

“I was in the hospital wing,” you said.  
“Right,” Tracey allowed, “and why was that?”

You just stared at her, unsure of how to reply. 

“Let us go. She said she’ll speak to you later,” Draco said from beside you. He wasn't trying to be rude - you looked up at him to see that his expression was still blank. 

Tracey and Sadie both bristled, though. 

“So you’re speaking for her now?” Tracey asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Just repeating what she said.”

“All of you, leave it,” you tried. 

“You think you’re standing up for her, do you? Forgive me if I’ve mixed something up, but did you not call her a blood traitor just last month?” Tracey asked, tone dripping with anger. You knew she was trying to protect you, trying to stand up for you because she thought you weren’t doing so yourself. 

For the first time today, you saw a flash of emotion break Draco’s mask. 

“You told them?” He asked you. 

You shook your head. “No, I -”

“That's what you care about?” Tracey probed, “whether or not she told her best friends? Have you even apologized?”

Draco’s hand twitched in yours. Tracey took a step forward. “You haven’t, have you.”

“Tracey, please,” you said, but she ignored you. 

“I’m sorry, (Y/N), but you’re not seeing what’s right in front of your eyes. He’s an asshole.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Yes, he is. This is Theo all over again.”

Draco ripped his hand away from you and walked down towards his hall alone. You couldn’t help the flicker of annoyance licking at your chest - Tracey was speaking out of turn about something she didn’t understand. Then again, she didn’t understand it because you hadn’t explained it to any of your friends. 

You turned to follow him. 

“(Y/N)...” You heard Sadie’s voice, and you looked back at them for a second. “Please just talk to us,” she begged. 

You lingered for a second. 

“We missed you. We fed Kaya. We aren’t trying to piss you off, it’s just… you know, we’ve been right about things like this before.”

For a second, you wanted to tell them everything. But you couldn’t. You didn’t even know how you were going to explain what had happened this time. Looking across the room at them, you felt like there was suddenly a chasm between you.

“I’ll talk to you later,” you replied, “I promise I will.”

But you weren’t sure what you could even say.

You almost ran into Draco when you got back to his room - he was standing right in the doorway. He stepped aside a little when you came in and turned to look at you. You were expecting a blank expression, but he just looked sad. 

“What did I tell you,” he said, his voice a little shaky, “they don’t like me.”

He went to sit on his bed. You stayed in the doorway, unsure of how to diffuse the situation. You couldn’t tell him that they didn’t care, that it was irrelevant - Tracey had just called him an asshole straight to his face. 

“They just don’t understand the situation,” you said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I can’t exactly tell them why you were ignoring me and getting back with Pansy at the beginning of the year, can I? They just think you were being a dick, but I forgave you because I wasn't thinking straight.”

He lay back, staring at the ceiling. 

“You told them I called you a blood-traitor.” It wasn't a question, just a statement. His tone was a little venomous. 

“Just Sebastian,” you said, “I was upset. I needed to talk to someone about it, and it’s not like I could talk to you.”

He looked up at you from where he was lying. “I never called you a blood-traitor.”

You didn’t want to go back over this conversation. The shock of seeing him bleeding out on the bathroom floor had made everything that happened beforehand seem stupid, small. You couldn’t stay mad at him when you knew firsthand how unspeakably terrible losing him would have been. 

“You still said it,” you explained, going over to sit next to him. “It doesn’t matter who you said it to, it means the same thing.”

His eyes tracked you as you walked, blinking slowly. “I thought you said you didn’t care if I was good. That you loved me anyway.”

“I do love you anyway,” you said, laying down beside him, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to be better.”

He looked confused. 

“I know you’ll never be nice, Draco, but you could be _good._ Don’t you want that?”

“How could I possibly be good?” He asked. “You know what I have to do. You know what I am.”

You carded your hands through his hair. “You’re more than what other people made you.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you on top of his chest. 

“Does it hurt?” You asked.

He shook his hand. “She was right, you know,” he said, “I never apologized.”

“I’ll talk to them,” you soothed, “I’ll smooth things over.”

“I _am_ sorry,” he said, “The cabinet - well, you know. You know it all.” He studied you. “And you’re still with me.”

You smiled. The light poured in through the window. His room was clean now, cleaner than it had been in a while. You knew that he was already thinking about how much time he had lost on the cabinet, how little time he had left. 

Being under Madam Pomfrey’s watchful eyes had done wonders for him, though. He looked more well-rested than he had this whole year. His cheeks were rosier; his eyes were brighter.

You kissed him, and he wrapped his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you to him. You exhaled into his mouth, allowing yourself to forget about everything that was troubling you - all the work you had missed, the explanation you would have to give your friends, the fact that Draco’s task had a deadline that was fast approaching. 

As he pulled you to him, his hands dancing up and down your body, you thought you could tell that he was trying to forget everything too.  
________________________

There were some things in the Room of Requirement that you didn’t remember being there last time you had come up. 

A sort of mannequin head rested on top of a different cabinet, wearing a sort of crown-shaped thing. For a second, you thought you might mention it to Draco, but he would probably freak out and think that somebody else was coming in here, somebody else was figuring out what he was doing. 

You focused back on the Vanishing Cabinet, which Draco was studying in great detail. You had no idea what he had been doing all year to attempt to fix it, and he refused to tell you, still trying to keep you as removed from the task as he could. 

He had a bird in his hand, and it chirped in alarm as he opened the door of the cabinet, the gold gears spinning by the handle. 

“What happens to the bird if it doesn’t work?” You asked. He closed the door and turned back to you with a grimace. “Oh,” you said, looking down at your feet. 

He came over to you, hugging you to him gently. 

“You can leave, you know. You can always leave.”

You shook your head against him, trying to distract yourself from what exactly was happening. 

Your thoughts were constantly at war with each other lately. You wanted to be there for him, to make him feel like he had you, and if that meant accompanying him to the Room of Requirement, that's what you would have to do. 

You never lifted a finger to help him physically, never suggested any spells or charms that might fix something in the cabinet. You hadn’t even been within five feet of the thing - Draco wouldn’t let you get too close. 

But you were supporting him all the same, and you sometimes felt in it your stomach like a gut punch, vines crawling up the walls of your body, infecting you with murder and dark magic. 

This wasn't some class project that he was having trouble completing. It wasn't even one of those elaborate pranks that he used to do all the time in second and third year. 

It wasn't designed to be a cool trick or hurt someone or make someone feel bad. 

No, it was designed to transport Death Eaters into the castle - people more than capable of mass destruction and murder. As an end result, it was intended to kill one of the most powerful wizards in the world, the only man that could stand to Voldemort and hope to survive.

The guilt clawed at you, and you hugged Draco tighter to you, ducking into his chest. 

You couldn’t imagine how it felt for him.

“I know,” he said, “I know. But what else can I do?”

He sounded as if he was begging you to tell him something else he could do, hoping you could come up with some counterplan, something that would get him out of the situation. Another way, anything but this. 

You had been trying to think of something all year, but you couldn’t. 

“I don’t know,” you answered truthfully. 

You pulled apart, but he kept his hand on your back. 

“I know we already talked about this,” he said gently, “but I need you to promise me that when it happens, you won’t come looking for me. You have to keep away from me, keep away from it all. That’s the only way you could possibly be safe.”

You regarded him. “When it happens… When will it happen?”

He looked down, then looked back up at you. Suddenly, he seemed very small. 

The cabinet started rattling, and you both whipped your heads toward it. Draco took his hand off your back and approached it, pulling at the handle with shaky hands. 

The bird soared into the air, circling the room. Alive. Unharmed. 

He had fixed it. 

You felt like something was breaking inside of you. The guilt that had been clawing at your stomach now felt like it was going to rip you open. Draco stood at the foot of the cabinet, turning to you with an expression of pure dread on his face. 

You felt tears prick at your eyes. It was happening. It was all real. 

He cut the distance between you, hooking his arms underneath your shoulders to hold you up. You felt weak as you leaned into the crook of his neck. You should be the one comforting him, not the other way around. 

“It has to be soon,” he said slowly, and you gripped onto him for dear life, “you have to start avoiding me now, understand?”

You shook your head. You couldn’t leave him now. 

“You promised me, remember? I’m sending the owl to my father tonight, and after that… we’ll have to wait for an opening, and I don’t know when it’ll be. Do you understand?”

You broke away from him but kept your hands on his waist. His voice was strong, but you could see the beginnings of tears in his eyes. 

“I understand,” you whispered.

“We can’t be together anymore,” he said, almost like he was talking to himself.

“And when you’re gone?” You asked, afraid of the answer, “what’s going to happen between us when you leave?”

He shook his head, then pulled you into him again. You squeezed your eyes closed, commanding yourself to remember this feeling - his smell, his arms around you, the way his robes enveloped part of your body. 

You pulled back again, eyes scanning his face. You had to remember everything, everything about him. You just had to. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but the words never came out. 

“I don’t know what I’m trying to say,” he breathed.

You felt like your heart was bursting open in your chest, like you were leaving a part of yourself in this room, trapping it forever amidst the old textbooks and boxes and the mannequin head with the crown on it. 

You lay awake that night, and Kaya lay on your stomach as if she knew you needed protection. You stared at the ceiling, picturing Draco in his room doing the same thing. 

The tears came easily, and every time you felt them subsiding, your subconscious reminded you that it would never be the same again, that you would never have him again. 

Every word he ever said to you, every little motion and look and memory, every fight, every kiss, every little piece of him swirled around in the air above you. 

And you had lost them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm taking a little break tomorrow for halloween, so i won't be updating til i give you guys THE BIG ONE on sunday :) i hope everyone has a happy halloween X


	57. The Astronomy Tower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is it...

You sat with your friends in the courtyard. The air was much hotter now, too hot, and your mind was flitting in and out of the conversation. You hadn’t been present in many conversations as of late. 

Should you warn Dumbledore? Should you tell someone that Draco had fixed the cabinets? There were some mornings when every part of you screamed _yes, you have to._

But you couldn’t. Not when you knew what it would mean for him, for his family. The thought of losing him, really losing him, was too much to bear. 

You felt like your friends were sitting on a different plane of existence, hovering above you on some sort of shallow field where nothing mattered except what Sebastian had heard in the common room this morning about the Bulstrode sisters. 

You were in a hole below them, sinking deeper into the earth, losing sunlight - or maybe you were above them, in a dark cloud, convulsing with the knowledge that there was a storm forming around you, a storm you had helped to create, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. 

Sebastian nudged your shoulder. The sky was a brilliant blue. It was sickening. 

“Are you alright?” Sadie asked. 

You nodded. Tracey put her hand over yours. 

“It was for the best,” she said gently, “you know that.”

You had told them that you had broken things off with Draco. It was easier than trying to make up an excuse for what had been going on all year. 

And it was true. You _had_ broken things off. It seemed like a cruel nightmare. You knew it was for your safety and his alike, but sometimes it all felt worthless. 

You would risk a great deal to find your way out of the reality you were currently in. The sunny days with the threatening undertones of _you know what’s about to happen, and you could stop it, but you won’t._

“Yeah,” you agreed, “it was for the best.”

Suddenly you couldn’t stand being around them anymore. It wasn't their fault that they didn’t understand - how could they? But the fact that there was only one other person in the world that knew what you were feeling and you weren’t allowed to speak to him anymore made you feel trapped, horrifically alone. 

You got up. All four of your friends fixed you with confused, worried expressions. 

“I forgot I didn’t do my Charms homework,” you said. 

“You can just copy mine,” Tracey offered, but you shook your head.

You hurried back into the castle, hugging your arms around your body, moving through the crowds of third years leaving their classes carelessly, shoulders knocking, shouts of annoyance. 

You turned random corners, ran up random staircases, rushed down random corridors, losing yourself in the castle. Finally, you collapsed against a wall on the fifth floor - or maybe the sixth, you weren’t sure. 

You stared out a plated window at the end of the hallway, the green hills and sparkling lake blurring through your tears. 

“What is she crying for?” A portrait asked, and you looked up to see an old man in long emerald robes, holding a crystal ball. “Chin up. You’re a Slytherin, aren’t you?” He scoffed. 

You got up and walked away, ignoring his calls behind you. You leaned your forehead against the window, looking down at the students milling about in the courtyard below. The sun beamed down from the brilliantly blue sky. A couple of people flew above the Quidditch pitch, and you thought you saw a school of fish darting just below the surface of the lake. 

You looked away. It was like nothing would ever be beautiful again. 

You spent the rest of your day in your home, curtains drawn. You tried to take a crack at the Charms homework, but your heart wasn't in it. Your heart wasn't in much of anything. 

Kaya was throwing a fit, yowling and snarling at you no matter how much food you gave her or how many times you tried to calm her down. Her agitation was only feeding yours. You stared down at the couple of scribbled phrases on your parchment, feeling like you might just scream. 

The sun went down, and the moon rose behind your curtains. You glanced up at the black sky to see that the stars were burning brightly, twinkling in their silly little patterns. 

You pushed your curtains closed, put on a nightgown, and got into bed. You tried to pull Kaya up with you, but she hissed at you and went to sit on the windowsill. 

_Sleep,_ you told yourself, _just sleep._ Dreams were your only escape these days, an alternate reality where fear and guilt and loss weren’t teeming in your stomach. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing your mind to be blank, willing yourself to just drift off. 

You were awoken by a searing pain around your neck. Your necklace was burning hotter than it ever had before, scorching your skin. You gasped, body shaking, bare arms erupting with goosebumps. 

Before you could think about it, you touched it. 

The sounds filled your room at once. Footsteps, someone banging around. A woman cackled cruelly, then spoke, but her words were indistinct, as were the words of the man who answered her. 

You gripped the necklace harder, trying to hear, but the voices were silent once more. You heard footsteps again, then the sound of a door opening. Your heart hammered in your chest. This had to be it - what else could it possibly be?

You heard voices again, overlapping and unclear. 

Then, with a jarring clarity, you heard him speak. “The Astronomy Tower.” Draco’s voice. 

You were out of bed before you could even think about it, cutting the distance to your door in no time. 

You paused in your doorway, adrenaline pumping through your body. No, you couldn’t do this. You had to turn around, go to sleep. This was no joke - there were Death Eaters in the school right now, and you had promised Draco that you would stay well away from everything. 

You couldn’t very well seek it out, could you?

But your necklace burned against your skin, and again you heard his voice - “quickly!”

It had to be a sign, had to be. 

You ran down the stairs barefoot, your silk nightgown whipping around your legs. Two seventh year boys were awake, drinking by the fire, and they gave you a funny look as you ran towards the passageway. 

You burst out into the hallway, straining to see if you could hear anything. You couldn’t. You put your hand on your necklace, and the sounds rang out again. 

You heard someone scream, a crack, a yell of _“Stupefy!”_

They were fighting. Were they already with Dumbledore? You ran as fast as your legs could take you, up the stairs to the first floor, then the second floor, then the third. You were out of breath by the time you reached the fourth floor, but the adrenaline took over, keeping your legs pumping. 

Fifth floor. Sixth floor. 

As you climbed the stairs to the seventh-floor landing, taking out your wand and gripping onto it for dear life, you heard the sounds first-hand. 

They were duelling - all of them. You burst onto the landing, heart pounding wildly. Flashes of light cracked through the air, and the stone walls cracked with them. A chunk of railing broke off from the rest, cascading down between the mazes of stairs. 

You recognized Professor Lupin, and next to him a girl whose hair seemed to be changing colors under the light. Someone shouted, and you turned to see Ginny Weasley, her red hair swinging around her - and there were Ron and Hermione, and Neville, and a couple of other adults. 

All locked in combat with notorious Death Eaters. There was Bellatrix Lestrange, her face contorted in a strange combination of glee and fury. There were the twins, the Carrows, standing back in the center of the hallway. 

You saw Fenrir Greyback and immediately felt fear slice through you as he stood up from a body on the ground, blood decorating his face. 

In the distance, past the fighting, you saw a head of blond hair round the corner. 

_The Astronomy Tower._

You ran down a separate corridor, taking the long way around, hoping beyond hope that all the Death Eaters in the castle were locked in combat and would not be seeking you out in the halls. You could still hear their shouts and ominous cracks of stone as you rounded the landing, your nightgown whipping behind you as you sprinted around corners. 

_The Astronomy Tower._

You reached the spiraling staircase and sprinted up it, taking the stairs two at a time. 

The door leading out onto the lower level of the tower was already open, and you stepped through it, heart pounding wildly. You gripped the doorway as you stepped through, the warm June air calming the fear-induced goosebumps that had risen on your arms. 

You looked up to the upper level through the mostly-transparent ceiling, and you saw them standing there. 

Draco and Dumbledore. 

Dumbledore was leaning against the railing, looking frailer than you had ever seen him before. He wasn't holding his wand in either hand. You felt your chest squeeze. Your whole body ached for Draco to do it, to get it over with. Your whole body ached for Draco to lower his wand and fail. 

_“Disillusium,”_ you murmured, and watched as your skin blended into the wall of the tower. You had been working on this particular charm for quite a while and were pleased to see it work. As long as you stood still, nobody would see you. 

You stared up at Draco, whose hand was unmistakably shaking. Dumbledore was speaking, and you quieted your heart to hear what he was saying. 

“Draco, you have had several long minutes now; we are quite alone, I am more defenseless than you can have dreamed of finding me, and still you have not acted...”

Draco opened his mouth to speak, but the sound of a woman screaming from below cut him off. You steeled yourself, digging your nails into your palm. You couldn’t turn towards the door, couldn’t react, couldn’t move, otherwise your charm would break and anyone could see you. 

“There is little time, one way or another,” Dumbledore said, sounding very calm for a man being held at wandpoint on the edge of the tallest tower in the castle, “so let us discuss your options, Draco.”

“I haven’t got any options!” Draco said, and your heart leaped involuntarily in your chest. It was the first time you had heard him speak in a week. His voice sounded weak, shaky, even as he attempted to make it strong. “I’ve got to do it! He’ll kill me! He’ll kill my whole family!”

You were struck by an overwhelming attempt to go to him, to be with him, to stand by his side as he faced a choice that seemed more impossible than it had ever seemed before. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself not to move. 

“I can help you, Draco,” Dumbledore said.   
“No, you can’t. Nobody can. I’ve got no choice.”

As if to illustrate his point, a crack sounded from below. It was so close to you that you felt the ground beneath your feet rumble the slightest bit. They were closer. 

“We can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine,” Dumbledore spoke gently, “Draco… you are not a killer.”

It was like every desperate hope that you had dared to harbor from the moment Draco told you his plan was coming true in front of your eyes. Dumbledore could help him, keep him safe, and his family too. He wasn't a killer, you knew he wasn't. 

With everything in you, you willed him to agree, to give in. If he just lowered his wand, they would keep him safe. Maybe they would keep your family safe, too, and you could be together, really try. 

You watched him as his hand trembled - but then, yes, he was doing it now, slowly lowered, coming back to his side. 

Then the door to your left banged opened. It was all you could do not to jump in surprise, but you glanced down at your body to see that the charm was still working. You were still invisible. 

For a second, you dared to hope that it was Lupin or one of the Weasleys or some other member of the Order, but instead, your eyes landed on the Carrow twins standing next to Fenrir Greyback, whose matted beard was stained red with blood. 

You felt a shiver of raw fear flow through you as the three strolled almost casually onto the upper level, standing vigil at Draco’s shoulders. 

Draco had raised his wand again, though his hands were still shaking.

“Do it, Draco,” hissed one of the Carrows. 

No. He couldn’t. Not now. _He couldn’t._ He must. There was no other way. But he couldn’t. Could he? Would he?

More sounds of conflict came from the stairs - _“REDUCTO!”_ \- and you hoped that they could break through in enough time to save Draco, to save Dumbledore, to make everything alright. 

“Draco, now!” the Carrow shouted again, and Draco flinched. 

“I’ll do it,” Greyback snarled, but the other Carrow put his arm out in front of him. 

“No. You know the Dark Lord’s orders. Dumbledore belongs to Draco.”

“Then _do it!”_ Greyback yelled, his voice somehow inhuman. 

The door banged open again. You flicked your eyes to the left, trying to make out who had entered the scene without moving your body.

Black robes flew out behind him, his black hair shining in the moonlight. Snape. You wondered what this meant. You knew as well as everyone else that both sides claimed Snape. Both sides believed that he was their double-agent. 

One side was about to be proven right. 

“Snape,” one of the Carrows said, “we have a problem with the boy.”

But it was Dumbledore who spoke next. _“Severus…”_

Draco took a shuddering step back as Snape moved forward, face to face with Dumbledore. The two stared at each other. _Please save him,_ you thought desperately, not sure if you meant Draco or Dumbledore or both. 

In an instant, he raised his wand. 

_“Avada Kedavra!”_

A jet of green light illuminated Dumbledore’s face as it froze in death. His body slumped backwards, hung in the air over the Astronomy Tower for a second. Then he fell. 

You clapped your hand over your mouth, aware that your charm had been broken. _Get out of here._

You sprinted away, your bare feet light against the stone stairs, your hair and your nightgown flying wildly behind you. 

The corridor below was almost unrecognizable. A portion of the ceiling had collapsed, raining dust upon the scene. You threw your hands up over your eyes as you took it in. Everywhere, people were still locked in duels - there was Lupin, the woman with colored hair, even Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick. 

You ran through the fighting, murmuring shield charms as you went. Ginny, Neville, Ron, Hermione, and Luna rounded the corner at the end of the corridor. 

They looked at you with expressions of confusion and horror on their face. They were all covered in dust, too. Ron’s arm was cut, a drop of blood snaking its way down his flesh, and part of Ginny’s sweater was burned.

You thought of stopping, but you couldn’t. Not when you knew what was behind you - the knowledge of who had killed Dumbledore, the cruelty, the way Greyback had picked at his fingernails with his teeth, no doubt drawing out the dried blood underneath them. 

“GO!” You shouted at them, shaking your head, keeping your feet moving towards the stairs.

The noises continued to sound from behind you as you ran, echoing across the seventh floor. Even when you descended a level, you could still hear them above you. 

Screaming. Cackling. A chunk of stone whipped through the air beside you, and you heard it hit the ground two levels below you with an earth-shattering smack. Your head started ringing, your knuckles white as you gripped your wand. 

You reached the fifth-floor corridor to see that the portrait of the woman who guarded Gryffindor tower had swung open, and a couple of students had poured out into the hallway, no doubt drawn by the noise above. 

They wore pajamas, rubbing at their eyes and fixing each other with questioning looks. You were thankful that you didn’t know any of them. 

You kept going down levels, not sure where you intended on ending up, but sure of exactly what you were running from. More students were in the hallway on each new floor, looking increasingly alert and increasingly confused. 

You heard a gasp from above, and Bellatrix Lestrange’s voice said something you couldn’t quite make out. You made your feet move faster. She couldn’t catch you, none of them could; you had to make it to safety or risk everything.

Finally, you reached the first floor. Hufflepuffs crowded the corridors near the Great Hall. They stared at you in shocked silence as you sprinted by. 

You couldn’t imagine how you looked. Your bare feet, nightgown whipping behind you, skin no doubt covered in a layer of dust. You had put your hair up in a braid before bed, but you could feel wisps around your face that told you it was slowly coming undone.

“What’s going on?” You heard someone shout, but nobody had a reply for them. 

You reached the turn-off for the Slytherin dungeons and paused. Is this where you had been going? Would you be safe in the dungeons?

You turned into the corridor and saw half of your house standing there, moving slowly towards the main hallway in small groups, whispering and casting glances around. 

You realized with a start that you couldn’t go back to the dungeons. Not now. Blaise’s face stared at you coldly, his hand wrapped in Pansy’s. Theo sneered at you. Crabbe and Goyle were looking almost delighted to hear the faint sounds of fighting from above. You remembered Draco’s words - he didn’t trust any of them.

No, you couldn’t go back to the dungeons. Nobody there could keep you safe. All they would do is remind you of what you lost. 

“Quickly,” you heard Snape’s voice say, closer than it had been, and you knew you had to keep moving. You were about to turn and run when -

“(Y/N),” you heard Sadie’s voice sound. You wheeled around to see her emerging from the crowd of Slytherins, Sebastian and Tracey flanking her. Perhaps once you would’ve made a joke about Simon sleeping through a Death Eater attack, but now there was no humor in it. 

“Sadie, please,” you said, holding up your hands, not sure what you were asking her to do. 

Forgive you. Forget you. Turn heel and leave. Follow you. Yell at you. Comfort you. Keep speaking. Never speak again. Maybe all those things at once. 

You shook your head, knowing you had no time left to lose, and kept running. You sprinted towards the Entrance Hall - there was nowhere else left to go - and ducked into a corridor just off the doors. 

You leaned against the wall, looking down at your hands. They were covered in dust, and a small cut in your palm stung. You didn’t remember how you got it. The scars on the back of your left hand stood out against the dust. _I must not tell lies._

You dropped your hands to your side, taking a deep breath and steeling yourself to do something. Anything. 

_“It’s over,”_ Snape’s voice sounded before you could. 

You turned to see them walk by you. 

There was Bellatrix, still wearing her sinister smile. Both the Carrows. A big blond man who looked a little worse for the wear. Another man you didn’t recognize. Greyback, his shoulders thrown back, his eyes beady with bloodlust.

And Snape, holding Draco by the neck of his suit. Draco was staring at the ground, clearly trying to ignore the groups of students that had seen him walking through the hallways with known Death Eaters. He was as tall as the rest of them - taller than the Carrows - but somehow, he looked like the smallest of them all. 

_“Bombarda Maxima!”_ Bellatrix cried with glee, and you remembered it as the same spell Umbridge had used last year to blow up the Room of Requirement. 

This time, it was used to blow open the entrance to the castle from the inside. The huge doors rocked on their hinges, throwing themselves open and inviting the night air in. One of the men laughed, and Bellatrix joined in. One of the Carrows said something that you couldn’t make out. 

Snape dragged Draco out of the doors, out of your sight. His head was bowed as it had been that one day in the bathroom at the beginning of the year, the day you had caught him crying. 

Your feet carried you without thinking about it, following him. You stood in the doorway of the castle, the ground below you sloping off into a hill. The back of his head was tantalizingly close to you - he and Snape were lagging behind the rest of the Death Eaters who were moving away from the castle with practiced haste.

Behind you, you heard footsteps and whispers. You knew that students were entering the hall now - perhaps they had heard Snape’s spell or the crash as the doors were forcibly opened. Perhaps they were just following the Death Eaters at a distance, morbidly curious. 

Either way, they were greeted by the sight of you stepping out onto the grass. The summer air enveloped you, the grass pliant beneath your feet. A breeze picked up, blowing the wisps of your hair in the wind. 

“Draco,” you said, as loudly as you dared.

He wasn't close to you - maybe half a Quidditch field away - but he heard you all the same. He turned around slowly, as if in disbelief, and caught your eye. His hair was curled with sweat, his hands shaking at his sides. He held his wand loosely. 

Snape whipped around to see what made Draco stop. He fixed you with the same strange expression he had given you in the hospital wing when you told him you had been there for a week, that you hadn’t gone back to the dungeons.

“Draco,” Snape said, no emotion at all in his voice, “it’s over.”

“(Y/N)!” You heard Tracey’s voice from behind you, taking on a desperate tone. 

You turned around to see that your friends had separated themselves from the rest of the crowd that was rapidly forming in the Entrance Hall. They were staring at you with expressions of confused disbelief on their faces, searching you. 

The breeze picked up the hem of your nightgown, blowing it away from the castle. The stars blazed wildly overhead, and the rest of the Death Eaters kept on their way, cackling and shouting as they descended from the grounds towards Hagrid’s hut. 

Only Draco and Snape stayed now. You turned back to them, taking another step forward. Draco’s expression was much more challenging to read than those of your friends’.

“If we don’t leave, they’ll kill you,” Snape hissed at Draco, but still his eyes never left yours. 

“What are you doing?” Sebastian shouted from behind you, but you didn’t turn back. You couldn’t.

“Come back, (Y/N), you need to come back!” Sadie called. 

You took another step into the night. 

Draco suddenly wrenched away from Snape’s grip, stepping towards you. His eyes darted back and forth across your face, searching you wildly. He stood stock-still, taking you in. The Dark Mark roared overhead, and you knew its twin was writhing on his arm.

“Draco, we need to go, _now,”_ Snape said, making a grab for his sleeve, but Draco pulled it out of his grasp, still staring at you. 

“(Y/N), get back inside the castle!”  
“What are you doing?!”  
“Please!”

“We can’t stay here!” Snape roared, and Draco flinched. 

And then you were running. The grass cushioned your feet. The warm air swirled around you. The night swallowed your bare arms, the lights of the castle fading into the background as you ran into the darkness.

_“Acuminis,”_ Snape hissed, pointing his wand at you. 

You felt a stinging pain in your shoulder, and it jerked back. You gasped, stumbled, knees hitting the grass. 

“Back to the castle, (Y/L/N)!” Snape ordered. 

But you had already made your decision. You had made your decision a very long time ago. 

You got to your feet, ignoring the pain in your shoulder and the stains of dirt and grass on your knees. Add that to the dust, the inexplicable blood, the fact that you were dressed for bed and that your braid was quickly coming undone. None of it mattered. 

You anchored your gaze on Draco, taking a couple of staggering steps towards him before you regained your footing. Then you started running, intent on cutting the distance between you as quickly as you could.

“Draco, RUN!” Snape shouted.

“I’m not leaving without her!”

Distantly, you heard your friends’ voices from the castle, but it was his voice that mattered now. He opened his arms to you as you reached him, and you collapsed into him with a sob. 

His hand came up to hold the back of your head to his chest, his other arm gripping your waist, helping you stand. You felt tears start running down your cheeks. Or maybe they had been there all along.

“They’re coming, Draco!” Snape roared.

“What are you _doing!”_ Tracey’s voice called. “Get back in the castle, now!”

_“RUN, both of you!”_

You looked up at Draco to see he was gazing down at you with something fierce in his eyes, a seed of defiance that you hadn’t seen in him for ages. 

The night was unmistakably dark around you, a hard contrast to the lights of the castle that were still shining despite the horror that had occurred within it just moments ago. Perhaps it was a ridiculous thought - after all, the world is more than darkness and light - but it seemed like you had just chosen your side. 

You didn’t look back at the castle. You didn’t think you could bear seeing your friends’ faces, but you could picture them clearly in your mind. 

Sebastian’s jaw would be dropped, his mind trying to puzzle together the evening, to understand what exactly had led to this moment. You knew what he would ask your friends for the next couple of weeks - “but how could she do that?”

Tracey would be angry. Her jaw would be set, her hands clenched at her sides. She would wear a stormy expression for weeks, like she had at the end of fourth year when she’d disapproved of Theo. Only this time, you couldn’t explain your choice to her. And you wouldn’t be able to reverse it. 

Simon, when the rest of them told him, would be shocked. Appalled. He never put much effort into anything, relying on his natural talents to help him sail through school and life at large. But when he was angry, it was like all his pent-up energy focused itself on the situation at hand. 

Sadie was the one who you dreaded the most, though. She wouldn’t be angry - no, you had a sneaking suspicion that she had known all along, that she had known _something_ that you hadn’t told her. She would be disappointed. She would put her hand over yours, a bit of sadness in her eyes, and say, “think about your parents.”

Fuck. Your parents. They had gone into hiding to escape Voldemort, and now here you were openly aligning yourself with him. 

That is what you were doing, right? That must be exactly what it looked like to the rest of the school - you were clinging to Draco, after all, who most of the student body had just seen walking through the hallways with a bunch of Death Eaters. 

You sobbed a little harder thinking about it. Of course it wasn't about Voldemort to you. It had never been. If there were such a thing as light vs. darkness, you would choose light as many times as you needed to if that’s what it took to protect your family and friends.

Only you had just had that choice, and you had run wholeheartedly into the darkness.

Into the arms of the man - the _being,_ really, he wasn't much of a man anymore - who had hung over your family’s life since you were a child. The man who had killed Harry’s parents and countless others. Cedric.

_No._ It wasn't Voldemort’s arms that were holding you now. It was Draco’s.

You were sure that, somewhere down the road, people would argue that he had had a choice, that he didn’t have to bring the Death Eaters into the school, that he could’ve somehow thwarted his master’s plans despite being a nineteen-year-old boy under threat of death.

But you knew. You understood, or at least understood as much as you could. He had no choice, not in this. You would be the last to defend him against claims that he was a bully, claims that he had carried on his family’s awful prejudices to deplorable ends. But in this, he had no choice.

And you really had no choice either. 

You would run to him a thousand times over, leave the roaring lights of the castle and move into the night as many times as you needed to. If the alternative was losing him forever, you would do anything. 

You hugged yourself against him, and he tangled his hand in the messy remnants of what once had been a braid. 

“Draco…” you said, trying to communicate every thought that had just flown through your head. 

“I love you,” he said. “I just love you.”

You nodded, feeling fresh tears prick at your eyes. 

Snape grabbed your nightgown and Draco’s shoulder at the same time, jerking you forwards. If it hadn’t been for his hand around your waist, you would’ve fallen again. 

“Both of you, get out of here!” He roared, and this time you did as you were told. 

Draco kept his arm around your waist as you ran away from the castle, Snape behind you. The hill was steep, strewn with rocks and drops in the path. You focused on the ground as you went, making sure you didn’t fall. 

Finally, you reached Hagrid’s hut. A couple of Death Eaters stood in front of it, firing hexes at him. 

_“Incendio!”_ You heard Bellatrix’s voice, and at once the wiry frame of the hut caught fire. The flames lapped at the wood, feeding on it, moving through the doorway. Hagrid roared. 

“Fang’s in there!”

You wailed, reaching your hand towards the doorway as Hagrid went inside to rescue his dog. The orange flames shot up the sides of his house, parasites, spreading out into the pumpkin patch. You heard Fang yelping inside.

Draco batted your hand away, pulling you back into him.

“We have to keep moving,” he said, almost begging. 

Then you heard a new voice from behind you - but no, it couldn’t be. There was no way. You wheeled around, separating your head from Draco’s chest. 

Harry stood there, facing off with Snape, his face completely contorted in rage. His clothes were tattered, and he was firing off spell after spell. Snape was blocking them all. 

_“Crucio!”_ You heard another man’s voice, and Harry hit the ground immediately, his mouth open, no sound coming out. His features were twisted in agony. 

You screamed, trying to wrench out of Draco’s grip, to stop whoever it was that was torturing him. 

“Potter belongs to the Dark Lord!” Snape shouted, and whoever had cast the spell chuckled darkly before moving on. 

You watched as Harry struggled to his feet, stumbling closer to Snape, yelling. 

“Kill me, then! Kill me like you killed him, you coward!”

_Kill me like you killed him?_ But that meant - Harry had been there. Harry had seen. How? Had he been using a Disillusionment Charm too? Had he been next to you the whole time?

“DON’T CALL ME COWARD!” Snape roared, and slashed his wand through the air, and Harry’s knees buckled again. 

You shook your arm, trying to get it out of Draco’s grasp, but he wouldn’t let you go. He pulled your sleeve back into him, wrapping his arm around your back and dragging you towards him, ignoring your struggling, ignoring your cries. 

“Draco, he’s -” you tried, but he shook his head, his eyes focused on yours. 

“You and I are the only ones who matter now,” he said, supporting your weight against his as he turned to keep running. 

The flames of Hagrid’s burning hut warmed your back like the fireplace in Draco’s room once had. You heard Snape roar in pain and looked back to see Hagrid’s Hippogriff, Witherwings, swooping through the air, clawing at his face. You felt Draco tense against you. 

Someone cast a wordless at the Hippogriff, and his wing jerked in pain. 

“We can’t,” Draco said preemptively, continuing to drag you along, “we can’t do anything now but go, understand?”

You nodded against him, gripping his robes tightly in your fists, sprinting away from the burning hut in the background, Snape close behind you. 

As soon as you reached the outskirts of the forest, you heard the telltale cracks of apparation. 

Draco stopped, and you collapsed against him. 

“Where are we going?”

“The Manor,” he said, “are you ready?”

No. 

You nodded.

He held onto you tightly, and all at once, you felt your body squeezing in on itself, spinning around wildly in the air. You felt like your stomach was turning, like you were about to throw up. 

Then you were at the Manor. The air was cooler here. You didn’t bring your head up from his chest, didn’t bother looking around. You were still crying, mind in a million places at once. 

Part of you was still in bed, wondering what was happening. Part of you was barefoot, running through the hallways. Part of you was breaking your own charm as you watched the green light flash out from Snape’s wand. Part of you was winding through the corridor with the collapsed ceiling, exchanging glances with your friends. 

Part of you was running to Draco, watching Hagrid's hut burn. 

Part of you was at the train station at the beginning of the year, giving your parents hugs and willing yourself not to cry, not to turn around in case they were. 

But, as the air settled around you and voices began to sound, most of you found your way back here, to the Manor’s gardens, to Draco’s arms wrapped around your back, to your tears soaking into his chest. 

“Who’s this?” You heard a man say, and felt one of Draco’s hands leave your back. 

“Don’t touch her,” he said, voice somehow strong despite everything, “don’t get near her.”

You heard Bellatrix laugh, and rage clawed through your stomach. You separated yourself from Draco’s chest, looking around for the first time. 

The moon hung overhead, shining brightly, and all the stars sparkled with it.

The grass beneath your bare feet was perfectly manicured, the flower beds and bushes all looking like they had been trimmed and pruned five minutes before your arrival. A couple of trees stood sentry at the end of the yard, framing the Manor, which you had only seen in pictures and newspaper clippings. 

Bellatrix and the blond man stood before you, both sneering. Bellatrix was pale, but in a different way than Draco. He looked like winter; she looked like sickness. Like something had been taken out of her, something vital and human.

Her smile was predatory in a way that reminded you of Umbridge and Pansy. But she was worse than the two combined—a million times worse.

“Who do we have here, Draco?” She asked, voice dripping with fake politeness. 

You couldn’t imagine how you looked - not well, you guessed. Your bare feet were dirty, cut up by the stones in your path. Your hair was wild, a nest around your face. Your entire body was covered in the dust from the castle and the dirt from the ground. Your knee was scraped, bleeding. 

The nightgown that had once been white silk was now multicolored, decorated with brown and green and red, the hemming scraped up and scorched. 

Tear tracks on your face disrupted the dust.

“A (Y/L/N), is she? A blood-traitor at Malfoy Manor? The Dark Lord will be _so_ happy to hear you’ve brought her to him, won’t he?”

Draco took a step forward, coming to stand behind you. He raised his wand as he had on top of the Astronomy Tower, but this time his hand didn’t shake. 

“Don’t talk about her like that,” he said, “don’t call her that.”

Bellatrix laughed, taking a step towards Draco, then another one, so that the point of his wand almost touched her skin. 

“Do it, then,” she leered, “protect your precious little plaything.”

He didn’t waver. “I’m serious. Do not get near her.”

Bellatrix laughed once more, but withdrew, sauntering down the path and up to the Manor’s doors. 

You reached out for Draco’s robes, grabbing a fistful of them and ducking back into his chest. He put his arm back around your waist, resting his head on top of yours. You weren’t crying anymore - instead, you just felt sort of numb. 

You burrowed into him, breathing him in, trying to find his scent beneath the blood and fire. There it was - the hint of vanilla. 

_Feel something,_ you commanded yourself, but it was like all your emotions had checked out. More Death Eaters apparated into the gardens, yelling and laughing and whispering to each other. 

You could be in bed right now - or, if not in bed, then at least with your friends in the hallway. They would know what to do, how to comfort you, the right words to say.

But would they? Would they know what to do? They hadn’t known what to do for quite some time - the only person who had known was standing right in front of you. 

You drew your head away from his chest, looking up into his eyes. 

_I just love you._

Emotion seeped back into your skin. But it wasn't pain; it wasn't sadness; it wasn't loss. You had shoved all those emotions away. No doubt they would make an appearance later tonight, or tomorrow, or in a couple of minutes. 

But you just felt a longing pulling at your chest, a need to be with him always. His hands soothed up and down your back. How far you had come, the two of you. He knew what to do now, how to make you feel better. 

Chaos raged around you and inside of you. 

You wondered, for a brief second, whether or not you would regret this decision when those feelings of anger and sadness returned. 

But, as you stared up at him, you knew there was nothing else you could’ve done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope it lived up to your expectations!
> 
> thank you all so much for your comments/kudos, they mean the world!


	58. Aftermath

The Manor was quite possibly the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen.

The floor was a dark hardwood, so dark it almost looked black, and the velvet chairs and hand-threaded rugs decorated the rooms in a way that screamed _this house has been standing longer than you could even imagine._ There were columns on the wall - actual columns - that sloped into the ceiling with a practiced grace. 

Even the ceilings were noteworthy - carved marble, sloping gently towards a center point from which a chandelier the likes of which you had never seen before stood. Each little bead it hung onto looked like a drop of rain, and the candles burning on it made them sparkle and burn. 

And the windows - they were narrow, but so tall, so many panes. Though it was dark outside, you could imagine the way the light would filter through them when the sun was out. 

You peered through an open doorway into another room, where bookshelves and giant portraits of Malfoy ancestors dotted the walls. 

The whole house, of course, was overrun with Death Eaters. 

Draco steered you into a corner, hands steadying you against him. You could tell when somebody got too close to you because you would feel his wand hand leave your back, a silent threat. You could tell when they ignored that threat, too, because you would hear him speak. 

“Get away from her.”

You were staring down at your bare feet, covered in dirt, standing out against the polished wooden floors of his ancestral home. 

Perhaps you should be thinking about the contrast there, what that contrast would mean for you. Or maybe you should be afraid, thinking of the Death Eaters swarming all around you, people who wouldn’t hesitate to kill you if they were asked to by anyone with an ounce of authority. 

In truth, you were thinking about your fucking cat.

You had left her at the castle. She had been in your room when you had run out towards the Astronomy Tower, hands clutching at your burning neck. 

You had _left her_ in your room, and no matter how resourceful she was, she couldn’t conjure her own food. You remembered how pissed off she had been before you had left, hissing and running around, refusing to get near you. 

It was like she had known. Known that you would abandon her. 

You let out a little whimper of distress, and Draco’s hand tightened on your back, pulling you into him. You grabbed at the back of his robes, gripping fabric in your fists. 

You had left her. Just left her. 

“Draco,” you heard a voice sound, and you turned your head slightly to see who was calling him. 

Narcissa Malfoy. 

She stuck out in the crowd. Her hair was tied back tastefully, her clothes and face clean. You felt Draco exhale next to you. Instinctively, you separated yourself from him, taking a step away from Draco so that you were standing next to him instead of against him. 

He grabbed your wrist, pulling you along with him as he made his way across the room to his mother. 

Narcissa never looked at you, but you felt her taking you in all the same. Not for the first time tonight, you wondered how you must look to other people. 

You were her opposite. She was wearing a stately black dress, you were wearing a torn, scorched nightgown, stained with dirt and grass and blood and ash. Her hair looked like it had just been done, yours probably looked like you had never taken a brush to it in your life. 

She was standing with perfect posture, her shoulders slightly back, her chin slightly inclined towards the ceiling. You were slumped over, your head a bit bowed, your bare feet pointing at different angles on the floor.

Draco kept his hand on your arm. Though Narcissa never met your eye, never even looked down, you had the strange impression that she was making a note of it. 

Without a word, she turned and left the room. Draco followed her, and you followed him, walking close to his side. 

The new room was dominated by the endings of two staircases. You looked up to see that they joined on a rather ornate landing above you. A portrait of a platinum blonde woman stared down at you. She would have been beautiful, but there was something about her expression that made her feel more sinister. 

Narcissa stopped, turning back towards her son and you. A couple of unspoken words passed between them, and he dropped your arm, taking a couple of steps towards her. 

She held out her arms and embraced him. You looked down at your bare feet again, feeling like you were intruding on a private moment. Well. You _were_ intruding on a private moment. 

“We’re safe, Draco,” Narcissa said, and if _you_ could feel the weight of her words, you could only imagine what they represented to Draco. 

“Is Father -”  
“Yes, he’ll be returning.”

“And you?”  
“Don’t worry about me.”

“Mother…”

You continued staring at your feet. 

“I’m fine. We’ll all be fine now.”

Draco nodded. You looked up to find that Narcissa was making eye contact with you for the first time tonight. 

“Who’s this?” Narcissa asked. Now that the safety of their family had been discussed, you were the next priority. You could imagine how strange it must be for Narcissa - to have her son return after what must have seemed like a suicide mission and bring a stranger with him. 

You took an uncertain step forward. 

“She’s… a friend,” Draco said.

Narcissa raised her eyebrows. It was clear that she knew exactly what Draco meant by ‘friend.’

“And Pansy?”  
“I’m not with Pansy anymore.”

“So this is -”

But Narcissa cut herself off, walking closer to you. You felt like you were being inspected. You felt a great rush of desire to prove yourself, but you didn’t know how you could. So you just stood there, silent. 

“Yes, well,” Narcissa said, her tone unreadable, “Pansy did say… but, of course, I thought she was being dramatic. This is, of course, who I think it is?”

“Mother, please don’t,” Draco said. 

“A (Y/L/N)?” She asked, but you knew that she already knew the answer. 

You nodded. She turned to face Draco again. 

“You’ve brought a blood-traitor into our home. Do you have any idea what this could do to us?”

Draco winced at the term ‘blood-traitor,’ and you felt your heart start racing. From the way Draco had talked about his mother, you had been thinking of her as someone like your mum - perhaps a hard exterior, but loving underneath it. Wasn't this the woman who taught him to braid? 

Instead, she seemed a bit more like his father than you imagined. At least in this way. 

“Mother,” Draco breathed, and you thought you sensed a little bit of disbelief in him, too.

“No. Not now. Take her up to a room - any room - not yours. Understand? She can’t be around if he comes. She needs to be kept out of sight, at least for tonight, then we’ll figure out what to do with her - your father - do you have _any idea_ how much this could ruin?”

Draco watched her carefully as she spoke. She looked up at him once she finished, shaking her head in disbelief. You had the impression that they were having another unspoken conversation. 

“I’ll take her up,” Draco returned quietly, and walked back over to you. He didn’t reach out to you this time, didn’t touch you, but you knew to follow him when he turned to walk towards the stairs. 

The house was eerily quiet - your footsteps were the only sounds you could hear. Your bare feet padding on the stairs, his shoes louder. You could feel Narcissa’s gaze on the back of your neck as you climbed. 

Draco led you to a room at the end of the hall. It had a four-poster bed, white sheets, an emerald green chair, and a dark dresser. There was a fireplace in the corner. You had never had a fireplace in your room before.

You turned to say something to Draco, but he shook his hand. 

“I’ll talk to you in the morning,” he whispered. 

Then he squeezed your hand lightly - so much so that you could have made it up - and left. 

You sat down on the white bed, the tall, narrow windows suddenly seeming more haunting than ornate. You felt extremely out of place. There was nowhere in the world where you would belong at this moment. 

Then you looked over and saw it, sitting on the dark wooden dresser. 

A blank piece of parchment. 

You knew what it was at once - it had been following you around all year. You heard your father’s voice in your head as you walked up to it. _These are Inscription Papers._

You grabbed the parchment to find that a quill was resting underneath it. _They’re charmed to appear in any room you occupy._ The piece of parchment had been living on your desk all year, stubbornly returning to the top of it every time you tried to stuff it in a drawer. 

For some reason, seeing it here solidified your choice. This wasn't a temporary stay, a bad decision that you could negate. If the Inscription Paper had moved here… you wouldn’t be returning to your room anytime soon. 

_Anything we write on our copy will transcribe to yours, and you’ll be the only one able to see it - but it will only work once each way._

You sat down on your bed, pulling out the quill. If it only worked once each way, you knew you had to write to your parents before they could write to you. That way, they could tell you what to do, how to get out of this situation. 

You sat back down on the bed, propping the paper up on your knees. You didn’t bother trying to explain why you had done it or make your language seem refined. You needed to let them know what had happened, and you had to do it fast. 

_Mum and Dad,_  
I’m at Malfoy Manor. I left Hogwarts with Draco. Dumbledore is dead. There are Death Eaters here. I’m alone. If there’s somewhere I can meet you, I will. Please be safe.  
Love. (Y/N). 

You set it down on the bed next to you, breathing out, digging your nails into your palms. The house was too quiet. Everything was too quiet. 

You looked back down at the parchment to see that it was coming alive with someone else’s handwriting. You grabbed it, smoothed it out—your father’s.

_They will not let you leave after what you’ve seen. You’ll have to stay. Listen closely: stay out of the way. Do not engage with anyone in the house. Do not speak unless you have to, do not move unless you have to. Your safety is more important than anything else._

You felt your heart start pounding faster, your fears confirmed. Dread curled in your stomach. 

It wasn't that you didn’t understand the weight of your decision when you stepped out of the castle, when you ran to Draco. No - you did. But you didn’t know where you were going, and once you got here, you thought… maybe Draco would help get you out. Maybe his mother would. Maybe they would bring you to safety. 

Obviously, that was a desperate, stupid hope. 

Your mother’s handwriting spilled across the page - refined cursive that could have put any of your professors to shame. You were obsessed with her handwriting as a kid - you had multiple notebooks scribbled with your childish attempts to copy it. 

_We will find you when this is over. We love you. You have to be selfish now._

And then, after a second, their words slowly began to get more transparent, until they disappeared off the page altogether. You felt the parchment lose its magic, become just a spare piece of paper in your hands. 

You tossed it aside, lying back in your bed. 

Only hours ago, you had been in a different bed, lying awake. The lake had sparkled under the moonlight outside your window. You had stared up at the familiar ceiling, the same ceiling you had lived under since third year, and felt yourself fill up with dread and guilt and fear.

You felt the same things now as you closed your eyes, though the circumstances had changed.

_We will find you when this is over,_ your mother had said. 

You found yourself thinking back to Christmas Eve, sitting with Draco on top of the Astronomy Tower, telling him that things between you could go back to normal when everything was over. You remembered the look on his face - it was almost as if he pitied you.

“It will never be over,” he had said.

Maybe he was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's going to be a couple of summer chapters then we'll get into seventh year! I can't believe it's the final stretch guys


	59. Charity (seventh year)

The light streamed in through the narrow windows. You stirred, breathing in sharply, turning to face the opposite wall. But the damage was done - you were awake. You opened your eyes, giving in to the sun, and sat up in bed. 

It only took a second for dread to wrap its claws around your stomach and squeeze. 

The room itself was gorgeous in the mornings. It had the same dark hardwood as the rest of Malfoy Manor, but the walls themselves were lighter than the other rooms, a sort of chestnut that looked almost golden when the sun hit it. 

The dresser stood with its dark wood matching the floor. It was full of clothes now, dresses that you could wear at arduous, silent meals and nightgowns you could wear to bed. You didn’t know whose clothes they had been, and you tried not to think too hard about it. You tried not to think too hard about anything these days.

The dark green chair, velvet, sat in the corner. You had never sat in it, not even once in the three weeks that you had spent at the Manor.

You had no idea what day it was. You had started out keeping track - July 2nd, July 3rd, July 4th - but the numbers had begun to muddle around in your head around the eleventh, and it wasn't as if you could carve tally marks into the walls. 

As best you could figure, it was sometime around July 20th. The gardens outside your windows were blooming with flowers of every color. The peacocks strolled around, basking in the sun. 

Some days, waking up felt like a dream. The only people you had seen over the past three weeks were Draco, Narcissa, and the odd glimpse of Bellatrix or another Death Eater when they came to pay a visit to the Manor. 

Your friends hadn’t written to you. You told yourself firmly that this was because they knew it would be unsafe, or else that there was some sort of protection on the Manor that prevented it from receiving mail from people outside the circle. 

In truth, you suspected that you hadn’t received any letters from them because they hadn’t written any. You only allowed yourself to think about this late at night when your mind was wandering anyway. 

You remembered their voices in surprising clarity, the way they had yelled at you to come back into the castle, screamed _what are you doing_ as you had run into Draco’s arms. 

Or maybe it wasn't surprising that you remembered their voices so clearly. After all, you had barely spoken to anyone for the past three weeks. 

Yes, you had seen Draco and Narcissa, but only over the table at meals. 

You only came downstairs when called, and you were only ever called by Narcissa, who would knock on your door around breakfast or dinner time, sometimes at lunch. 

At first, you had been happy to be able to leave your room and see Draco, but it quickly became apparent that you were being allowed to come to meals only because you couldn’t starve to death before the Dark Lord could see you and decide what to do with you.

Draco hadn’t said a word to you since the night you had arrived. You supposed he couldn’t very well lean across the table and profess his love to you when the safety of his family and the approval of his mother was on the line, but he could at least try making eye contact. 

He felt very far from the boy who told you he loved you.

Your stomach growled as you got up. You hadn’t eaten much last night. 

Expecting Narcissa at your door at any moment to tell you to come downstairs for breakfast, you pulled open a dresser drawer and changed from your nightgown into a long black velvet dress.

It was embarrassing and against your nature to dress this nicely for every occasion, but nobody had given you any casual clothing, so every time you left your room, you looked like you were attending some cross between the Yule Ball and a funeral. 

Once you pulled the dress on, you sat back in bed, pulling at your hair. 

Sure enough, a couple of minutes later, you heard Narcissa knock at your door. You opened it wordlessly. That was one comfort they had given you - you still had your wand. Not that there was a lot you could do with it in the confines of the room. 

You stood up, pulling your shoulders back and inclining your head slightly. That was one thing you had learned from Draco’s mother - how to look in control of a situation at all times. 

“My husband is returning to the Manor today,” Narcissa began at once. Never any time for formalities - at least not with you. “You will come with Draco and I to receive him in the garden.”

And with that, she turned and left. You took a deep breath. There would be time to process this later - now, you had to follow her. 

You walked down the stairwell after her. Draco stood at the bottom in a monochrome black suit, something silver hanging from his waist. You noticed that your outfits complimented each other nicely. It seemed like a cruel occasion for that. 

The sun beat down on you as you stood at the end of the pathway, Draco to your right, Narcissa to his right. You regretted wearing a long-sleeved dress. The velvet was hot against your skin.

You didn’t allow it to get to you. You kept your head held high, perfect posture. 

At the end of the gardens, the wrought-iron gates twisted open, revealing three men. 

You didn’t recognize one of them - a tall man, broad-shouldered, half of his face disguised by a huge black beard. His eyebrows were thick, too, obscuring his eyes. 

Next to him stood one of the Death Eaters you had seen that night as you fled from the Astronomy Tower. He was tall, too, blond. He had been firing curses at wild throughout the hallways. 

They parted as they reached the end of the walkway, and Lucius Malfoy emerged from behind them. 

Lucius looked like a ghost of the man you used to see on Platform 9 ¾. His long, platinum hair was tangled and greasy, almost resembling Snape’s. It seemed like he had lost weight - his face looked tighter and narrower. His cheekbones had been prominent before, but now they looked nothing short of sharp. The area around his eyes was darkened, and his eyes themselves seemed to have sunk back into his head. They were the same shade as Draco’s, a piercing blue so light it was almost silvery. 

Narcissa took a couple of steps forward, separating herself from you and Draco. For a second, her perfect posture faltered. 

The two bigger Death Eaters let him step in front of them. 

Narcissa and Lucius embraced. His hand looked withered and pale as it wrapped around the silver dragon on the cane he always carried and brought it up to her back. They broke apart, and Narcissa looked up towards you, beckoning Draco to come down to them. He did. 

He embraced his father, but his arms moved slowly, almost sluggishly, as they wrapped around his back. 

The other two Death Eaters receded, walking back down the pathway. 

The sun beat down on you, and you felt a drop of sweat run down the back of your neck as Draco and Lucius pulled apart. Almost in slow-motion, they both turned to you. 

They looked so much alike.

Draco wore an expression of persistent sadness as he watched his father take you in. Lucius’s expression was as icy as his eyes. He scanned your body, taking in your dress and your hair and your face. 

You could tell he knew who you were, and he could guess why you were here, dressed in the clothes of some Malfoy or Black who didn’t want them anymore. He looked appalled. 

___________________________

Your room was basically a prison, but at least it wasn't as hot. You didn’t feel like taking off the dress, so you were just lying back in bed, eyes closed, letting the velvet continue to stick to your skin. 

Lucius hadn’t said anything to you. He didn’t have to - his glare said enough. 

You realized absentmindedly that your door was open when you heard someone’s voice carry from downstairs. You got up, sighing, and went to close it. 

You thought you might have a nap if you could sleep. Dreams were, more often than not, better than your current reality. The overwhelming boredom coupled with the crippling fear and uncertainty made you feel sick. 

As you reached the door, the voices carried more clearly. You heard Narcissa speak. 

“Of course she is. Draco brought her back.”

“And she’s been here for three weeks?” You heard Lucius ask. 

“Yes.”

“And her parents? Have they...” Lucius trailed off, and your mind reeled, wondering what he was thinking. 

Narcissa seemed to know. “No,” she answered, “nobody’s heard from them in almost a year.”

“So they’re in hiding.”  
“It would appear so.”

Lucius gave a great sigh. 

“Do you have any idea of the danger you’ve put us all in?” He said. 

You furrowed your brows. What did he mean by that? How had Narcissa put them in any danger?

But he wasn't talking to Narcissa - it was Draco’s voice that you heard next. “We shouldn’t keep her like this,” he said. It was the first thing you had heard him say in what must have been at least two weeks. 

“It was irresponsible of you to bring her here,” Narcissa replied coolly.

“I don’t understand what good it’s doing, keeping her locked up.”

“She’ll stay in her room -” Draco started to speak, but Lucius continued over him. “ _She will stay in her room, Draco_ \- and we’ll figure out what to do with her… The Dark Lord can’t know. Nobody can know who doesn’t already.”

“We can’t conceal her from _him,”_ Narcissa said, notes of panic seeping into her voice. 

A small silence fell. 

“No,” Lucius said, “we just need to figure out a way to tell him… a way to make it seem like we’ve done it for him. That there was a reason for it. Perhaps…”

“Father,” Draco said, “please, she chose to come here. She’ll cooperate. We can’t keep her up there.”

“Why _did_ she come here, Draco?” Lucius asked. 

There was another spot of silence. 

“It was a mistake,” Draco said finally, his voice devoid of emotion. 

“That much is clear,” Lucius responded. “I expect you not to make the same mistake again.”

“Yes, Father.”

You shut the door as quietly as you could, retreating to your bed. They were talking about you like you were a bad investment, like something they needed to shove under the covers and forget about. You supposed that that was precisely what you were to them. 

After all, getting caught harboring a known blood-traitor whose family had refused to join the Dark Lord would not be a good look for the Malfoys, who had just recovered from Lucius’s mistake at the Ministry, and then only barely. 

It made sense that Narcissa and Lucius were talking about you like that. 

Draco, though - he seemed to be talking about you in six different ways. You didn’t miss him trying to get them to let you out of your room, but not even a minute later, he had basically called you a mistake. 

You stared out the window, looking down at the gardens below. The sun hung beautifully in the sky. If they were going to imprison you, there could be worse places to serve your sentence. 

You turned back towards the door just as you heard footsteps drawing closer. 

Probably Narcissa, calling you down for a rare lunch. For a second, you allowed yourself to entertain the possibility that it was Draco, escaping from his parents and coming to see you. 

But instead, the door swung open to reveal Lucius Malfoy, his cane outstretched. You took an instinctive step back. He noticed. His cold eyes swept around the room, lingering on your nightgown, which you had deposited on the ground that morning. 

You wondered whether or not you should bow, then shook your head slightly. It was a stupid thought. You didn’t even remotely respect him. But there was something in how he stood, how he brandished his cane, that commanded attention. 

You wondered how he managed to keep his pride after his stint in Azkaban.

So instead of bowing, you just stood there stupidly in your black velvet, letting his eyes wash over you with distaste for the second time. 

“You’re enjoying your room?” he asked, sounding like he hoped you weren’t.

“Yes - thank you.”

You hadn’t meant to thank him, but there was a small, desperate part of you that wanted to impress him. Here was the man whose shadow had stood between you and Draco for years. Maybe if you managed to… but no, you could see it in his face. There was no way he would come around to you. 

“I hope you won’t mind this intrusion,” he continued. 

His words were polite, even kind, clearly well-mannered. But the way he spoke was cold, superior, suggesting that it was _you_ intruding on him and not the other way around. 

“No,” you replied. 

“You understand, of course, why I’m here?”

“I… I’m not sure, actually.” You tried your best to keep your voice even, to sound unbothered by his presence. 

“You aren’t sure? I’ve never met you before today, and I come home to find you living in my house. You can imagine my surprise.”

In truth, he _had_ met you before today, multiple times - he used to work with your father at the Ministry. He made his absence seem trivial, like he had been at work, when in reality, he had been in Azkaban - the fact that Voldemort had gotten him out so quickly was chilling. 

You kept your eyes trained on him, but you knew better than to try to craft a response. 

“You left Hogwarts with my son, did you not?”

“I did.”

Lucius’s eyes left yours, falling on the green chair in the corner and lingering there for a moment. 

“Why?”

You hadn’t expected him to ask outright. It caught you off-guard. You supposed that was the point. You focused on your breath quickly, keeping your shoulders back. _Do not lose your posture._

How should you reply? Should you pretend that it was somehow an accident? Should you tell him that Snape or Bellatrix or some other Death Eater had forced you along with him? Should you tell him some diluted form of the truth, that you had chosen to go with him? Or should you just tell him outright that you and Draco were together?

He sneered at your silence, taking it back for himself. 

“Or did you not have a reason?”

“No. I did.”

He raised his eyebrows. 

“I - did it for Draco,” you rushed out, dropping his eye contact as you commanded yourself not to blush. 

“How sweet,” Lucius drawled, “I’m sure he didn’t ask you to?”

“No.” You looked back up to see that Lucius had narrowed his eyes. They were no longer surveying the room - instead, they were fixed on you. 

“Then I can’t imagine why you did.” He smiled tightly - a menacing smile. “But I’m sure you had your reasons. No matter what they were, let me make this clear. It was a mistake to follow him here. You clearly have no regard for your own safety nor the safety of the other people residing in this house.”

You kept his eye contact but didn’t speak.

“You are to do exactly what you are told. I understand that my wife has been allowing you downstairs. That ends today. You are not to be seen, not to be heard. If you put a toe out of line… I’ll remind you that you are expendable, dispensable. Nobody in this house owes you any loyalties, least of all my son. Do you understand?”

You nodded, feeling your heart racing wildly. 

“Good. The house-elves will bring you food. I trust you have no other reason to leave this room.”

You nodded again, and he held your gaze for a couple of empty seconds before turning and leaving the room. You sank onto your bed, eyes roaming around the room. 

Chestnut walls, dark wood floor, the dresser, the chair, the bed. The windows. The ceiling, high above, from which hung a modest chandelier. 

If the days had blended before, now they were just the same. You memorized every inch of your room, every knick on the wall and spot of dust on the floor. You had spent hours staring out into the garden, so long that the flowerbeds and the bright green grass had become repulsive in their beauty.

You stared up at the sun until it hurt your eyes, then squeezed them shut to see the blue and purple spots dancing across your vision. 

The house-elves did bring you food, but they were not allowed to speak to you. Every time you tried to engage them in conversation, their eyes got wide and they scurried off to avoid accidentally going against their master’s commands. 

You opened your door once, to make sure that the landing was still there and that you hadn’t been transported into a different world where you and this room were the only occupants - but the hall was still there. 

It had been, as well as you could guess, about four days. Which would make today July 24th - no, July 23rd. 25th? You weren’t sure. You weren’t even sure it mattered at all. 

The sun was lowering in the sky, painting the walls of your room a golden color. It would have been beautiful if you hadn’t seen it every day for the past month. In fact, you had grown to hate it. You wished it would turn to night faster. Then, at least, you could sleep. 

You lay back on your bed, zoning out and staring at a particular divot in the ceiling. You sighed.

Then someone screamed. 

You sat up at once, your muscles tightening. For a second, there was silence. 

Then the scream sounded again. It was a woman by the sound of it, and you heard someone else yell _“Silencio!”_

Your heart started racing. It took a lot for noise to carry through your closed door - you hadn’t heard so much as a footstep since Lucius imprisoned you in your room last week. You breathed in, remembering his words to you. _If you put a toe out of line…_

But your feet were already carrying you to the door—just a crack. Just to see if you could hear anything else. You grabbed the handle, turning it slightly in your hand, hearing the almost imperceptible click of the door. You pushed it out slightly, and a bit of light from the hallway flooded in, adding to the already golden tones of your room. 

You turned, putting your ear to it, and, indeed, you heard voices.

“Charity Burbage!” Someone yelled. A familiar voice, but it wasn't Draco’s or Narcissa’s or Lucius’s. 

No. Someone else was in the house. 

“Yes, My Lord, she -”

“Silence, Alecto,” rasped a voice, and you felt your eyes widen. 

You had never seen Voldemort. You knew he had returned, knew he had fought Dumbledore in the Ministry at the end of fifth-year, knew that he was behind Draco’s whole plan. He was a force in your life, a force in every wizard’s life these days, whether they liked it or not. 

But you had never seen him. Never heard him. Had no perception of what he looked like, besides knowing that he didn’t look human anymore. 

Despite all that, you knew that it was his voice that had just spoken. The slight rasp, the uncanniness, the way the rest of the room had fallen quiet. Yes, the Dark Lord was here. 

You pushed open the door as far as you dared, exchanging your ear for your eye and looking through the slit. 

The door at the end of the landing was open, spilling into the room that you and Draco had first walked into the night of Dumbledore’s death. 

You caught sight of Draco and Lucius easily - their hair gave them away. They were standing on the outskirts of the room, looking gaunt. Narcissa wasn't with them. 

You recognized the two short Death Eaters who had been on top of the Astronomy Tower - the Carrows. 

There were a couple of others, too - the blond man and the man with the beard who had brought Lucius back to the Manor. Snape, standing to Voldemort’s right, looked the most like he belonged of anyone in the room. 

Bellatrix was there too, on his other side, her body vibrating slightly, grinning. 

You tried to catch a glimpse of Voldemort, but his back was to you, staring at...

A woman was hanging in the middle of the room, her body suspended in midair. You couldn’t exactly make out her face, but you could tell that her mouth was opening and closing. Her eyes were screwed up. She was screaming wordlessly, unable to make any noise under the _Silencio_ spell. 

She lashed around in the air, her limbs flying around wildly, trying to right herself. 

“Shall I stun her?” The big blond man asked. 

“Rowle,” Voldemort rasped, “do you mean to tell me that you aren’t enjoying the show?”

Rowle looked down, not trusting himself to speak another word. 

Then Voldemort turned so that his profile was facing you.

You gasped, your heart immediately starting to race. He was so pale that you wondered whether he really had skin at all - it was almost white, ghastly purple veins decorated his arms and his bald head. His eyes were beady, tinged with red. He brought his arm up, revealing almost skeletal hands with long, greening fingernails. 

He had two slits where a nose should be, almost snake-like. 

The sight of him was appalling, shocking. You pulled back immediately, flattening your back against the wall. 

“Charity Burbage…” you heard him say, “do you all know who we have in front of us?”

You steeled yourself, clutching at the door handle and praying that nobody had seen or heard you as you pulled the door shut. Despite the almost stuffy atmosphere of the room, you felt a strange urge to shiver. 

The sun was almost gone now, leaving only faint traces of light in its place. You took back all your wishes of it being nighttime. You wanted the sun back in the sky. 

The Manor cast a long shadow across the gardens, which seemed more empty and desolate than ever. 

You should sleep. 

You hadn’t bothered to change out of the nightgown you had worn to bed last night, so you just lay down, pulled the blanket over you. You shifted, trying to find a comfortable position to lay in, but you couldn’t find one. 

You were overheating, sweating. You threw the blanket off you. You were freezing. You pulled it back up. 

You heard a man’s voice carry through the door, but you couldn’t tell what it was saying. 

_Charity Burbage._ You knew that name. How did you know that name?

_No, don’t think about it. Go to sleep._ But you couldn’t get comfortable. Every time you felt yourself drifting off, her scream echoed in your head. _Charity Burbage._

It hit you all at once. You had never taken Muggle Studies, and neither had any of your friends, but Dean had taken it third year while you were dating, and you remembered him complaining about a paper that he had to write about electricity. 

A paper for Professor Burbage. 

You felt sick to your stomach. Surely that woman wasn't a professor at Hogwarts. Surely people with such a public presence as that would be well-protected. Maybe there was another Burbage, a younger sister, a mother, a cousin. 

Would that make it better, though? Would it make it better if the woman being tortured downstairs was somebody you didn’t know hadn’t met?

_Yes,_ your mind screamed, _yes, it would._

Her scream played in your head again. You got out of bed, going over to the window. You had opened it three days ago, thinking the warm air and the sound of birds would invigorate your tired routine. But you hadn’t heard any birdsong. 

You picked up your wand from your bedside table. You wondered why Lucius had let you keep it. 

_“Expecto Patronum,”_ you murmured, and the leopard sprang forth from your wand, dancing out the window. You were relieved to find that you could still be happy, that that tried and true memory of stepping onto Platform 9 ¾ for the first time still represented a good time in your life. 

But the leopard faded faster than it usually did. You rolled your wand in your hands, contemplating casting it again. It made you feel a bit better, a bit more peaceful, watching it streak through the sky. 

But before you could decide, your door opened. Lights from the hallway disturbed the darkness. You turned around quickly, gripping your wand. What if it was Voldemort? Or what if Lucius had seen you peeking through your door? Or what if -

But it was Narcissa. She looked at you curiously. 

“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” she said, which you supposed was the closest she would come to apologizing. Strange. You didn’t remember her ever doing anything close to apologizing to you. 

She regarded you for a second longer. “You will follow me,” she said, tone not betraying any semblance of information about where exactly you would be following her. 

You did follow her, walking out onto the landing for what felt like the first time. The lights were bright, and you squinted. You glanced down into the room that had once been occupied by Death Eaters and Voldemort himself. Empty. 

Narcissa stopped at a room at the end of the hall. Its doorway looked taller and more well-kept than the other ones in the hall. Narcissa paused outside for a moment, her hand hovering in the air. Then she pushed it open. 

His smell hit you first. It was everywhere, as was the color green. 

Draco’s room. 

You followed her in, looking around. There were windows everywhere; all of them tightly shut. A vast vanity rested in the middle of the wall closest to you. His bed was raised, draped with stitched hangings. The walls were as dark as the floors. Malfoy ancestors stared down at you. 

And he stared at you too. 

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, still dressed in the suit you had seen him in earlier when he was standing on the outskirts of the meeting. 

Narcissa paused. 

“Your father can’t hear a word of this, understand?” Narcissa spoke. 

Draco nodded. She shot a look of clear disdain at you, then brushed out of the room and shut the door behind her, leaving you alone with him for the first time in a month. For the first time since the night on the Astronomy Tower. 

He came to you at once, as soon as his mother left, cutting the distance between you effortlessly. But he paused once he got close, his eyes catching yours and searching them. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, his voice shaky. 

“Yeah, I’m alright. You?”

It was stupid, talking like this to each other, and you both knew it. But you weren’t sure what else to say. 

He shook his head slowly. _No._

“I saw,” you told him, not meaning to, “I saw her.”

“How?”

“I opened my door. Just a bit, I heard her scream, I thought… I saw her, Draco, and I saw _him,_ and I -”

But his arms were around you, and you stopped speaking, curling into him, shaking. 

You should be comforting him. You should put your arms around him, and speak to him quietly, and rub your arms up and down his back. 

He was the one who truly had to deal with this. He was the one who saw everything happen right in front of him, not through a crack in a doorway - he was the one who had to hear everything that happened as you lay awake in bed, door blocking out the noise. 

“Come on, bed,” he said softly, his arms never leaving you as he took you away from the doorway and walked you back towards the biggest bed you had ever seen in your life. 

You lay down, and he lay down next to you. You surfaced from his chest, staring at him. He brought his hand to your face, smoothing his thumb across your cheek. 

“Draco… what happened?” You asked. You felt like you needed to know, like you somehow owed it to Professor Burbage.

He shook his head. “You don’t need to know.”

“I want to.”

He shook his head again, his arm around your back pulling you closer to him. 

“No, you don’t,” he breathed against you, “I promise, you don’t.”

“Is she alright?” You asked, knowing as soon as the words left your mouth how stupid you sounded.

Draco’s thumb froze on your cheek. You looked up at him, watched as he blinked a couple of times in quick succession. He looked away from you, across the room to where his windows looked out onto the gardens. 

“She’s dead,” he said, then, murmuring, “...the snake.”

You felt a fierce protective urge. You took your arms from where they had been and smoothed them up his back, pressing into his skin, grounding him. You looped them around his neck, pulling his head down so it rested on top of yours. You nestled your head into his chest, wrapped your legs together with his. 

You slowed your breaths on purpose, hoping he would fall into the same rhythm. Calm. 

“Can I stay here?” You asked, wondering if this was temporary, if Narcissa would come back into his room and banish you back to yours. You felt him nod against your head, and his hold on you tightened. 

“Don’t leave,” he said, “please don’t leave me.”


	60. He Who Must Not Be Named

Draco was gone when you woke up. You turned over in his bed, looking out his windows into the garden. The dew on the grass sparkled in the morning light. A single peacock was strolling around the grounds.

You stared up at the ceiling for a little while, then let your eyes travel around the room. There were two portraits on the wall. A tall man in a nice suit and small, wiry glasses not unlike Harry’s moved so little you could barely see him move at all. A plaque below his portrait read ‘Armand Malfoy.’

The other portrait was empty. The plaque read ‘Minette Rosier.’ You wondered where she was. These portraits were different from the ones at Hogwarts, who loved to talk and move and sing. They hadn’t said a word.

Draco’s door was slightly ajar, and you turned towards it, unwilling to get out of his bed. Waking up here, even with the lordly portraits on the wall and the ornate quality to every piece of furniture you could see, even without him, was miles more comforting than waking up in the other room. 

You looked at yourself in the vanity, blinking slowly. Then you turned away, looking back towards the window. You breathed in, memorizing his vanilla scent, trying to remember every moment spent in this room. It was only a matter of time until somebody kicked you out of it. 

They would surely send you back to your little prison soon. The words you and Draco had shared last night would exist only in your memory, playing for you as you fell asleep, just like the shouts of your friends. 

You vaguely heard voices carrying up the stairs. You had heard them enough times to recognize them - Draco, Narcissa, and Lucius were all having a conversation. You wondered whether there were any Death Eaters still in the Manor, or if all of them had left after… after what had happened to Charity Burbage. 

You shut your eyes, trying to picture her face as she had looked at Hogwarts. Instead, the face you had seen through the crack in your door swam into your head - the wordless cries, the pain contorting it, the flailing limbs. 

You heard footsteps and sat up to see Draco come back into the room. He smiled at you softly, one of those smiles that didn’t exactly constitute happiness.

“You’ll stay here now,” he said simply, making his way over to you. 

You sat up in bed. “What do you mean?”

He picked up the blanket, sliding back under it and moving his arm to wrap back around you. 

“I’ve sorted it. You’ll stay here now, not the other room.” He was trying to sound casual, but you didn’t miss the slight waver to his voice. “But promise me you’ll stay out of the way when he comes here - when any of them come here. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you replied quietly, “I will.”

After that, you were allowed to come downstairs for meals again. They were even more awkward and horrible than they had been before Lucius’s return - it was clear that he loathed you. 

Draco interacted with you more, though, even if it was just pressing his leg against yours under the table or brushing your hand as he reached for a glass. Narcissa seemed checked out of the situation altogether. 

You wondered what Draco had said to Lucius to make him reconsider. From every interaction you had seen between them, Draco clearly remained his inferior. You could tell by the way Draco’s eyes flicked down when his father addressed him. 

Lucius never struck you as a particularly fatherly man, but he spoke to Draco in the same tone he used to speak to you, the same way he talked to the house-elves. There was no way to describe it besides cold. You would have thought that Lucius’s voice could only operate in that tone, but you had overheard him talking to Narcissa once, and then his voice was almost soft. 

Voldemort had only returned to the Manor once since what had happened with Charity Burbage. You had stayed in Draco’s room, the door closed, staring at the moon, as he sat in the dining room attending the meeting. 

You tried to stay up to make sure he was alright, but you fell asleep before he came back. It was hard, lying in his warm sheets, breathing in his scent, not to drift off. Being in his presence so entirely was comforting even when he wasn't there. 

He was there when you woke up, already awake. You suspected that he hadn’t slept at all. His hand was up your shirt, resting on the skin on your back. He sat up, and you put your head in his lap, letting him run his hands through your hair as the sun got higher in the sky. 

When you got up, you realized that your hair was in a braid. 

“It’s July 27th,” he said. You furrowed your brows, wondering why the date was significant. 

“Is it?”

“They’re going to try to get Potter tonight,” he said. 

“How?”

“The Order’s moving him. They tried to change the date or something, but Snape figured it out. It’s tonight.”

“Are you going?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Alright, then.”

You sat on the floor as the moon pressed against the sky that night, watching Draco pace back and forth across the room. The narrow windows threw him a long shadow. You kept your eyes on the shadow-version of him for a while—the more simple version. 

The real version of him was wearing, as usual, a blank expression. But his body language gave him away. His fingers drummed against his sides, his feet took his body back and forth across the dark floor, retracing his steps.

“I hope they fucking catch him,” Draco said, stopping his pacing and turning to you. “I hope they fucking catch him and end all of this shit.”

“It wouldn’t end even if they did catch Harry,” you replied. 

He scoffed. “Don’t call him that. _Harry._ It’s Potter.”

“Is that what you’re caught up on?” You raised your eyebrows. 

He started pacing again, twirling his wand around in his hands as he did so. “Oh. How could I forget? You were part of his little club, weren’t you. You probably want him to escape.”

He shot you a look as if daring you to say that you did. You obliged. “Yeah, I do.”

His blank expression morphed to match his body language. Clouds gathered over his brow, and his eyes flashed with lightning. It had been a while since you had seen him like this. Stormy. In a strange way, it was comforting to see him exist outside of a state of perpetual stoicism.

“Typical of you. You and your fucking morals.”

“It’s not a question of morals, Draco. You’ve always known how I would side on this.”

He crossed his arms, staring down at you. You felt an urge to get up off the ground so that you wouldn’t have to look up to make eye contact with him. 

“Well, forgive me for thinking you changed your mind when you followed a group of fucking Death Eaters out of the castle.”

“That was for you.”

He stopped pacing for the second time, sinking onto the edge of his bed and staring at you. After a second, he shook his head slowly. 

“You know, I don’t understand where you draw the line between me and everything my family and I have stood for for hundreds of years.”

To be honest, you weren’t quite sure where you drew the line, either. It was sort of a tug of war, shifting slightly, back and forth. Blurred. Some days, you thought you might do anything for him, no matter how awful. Some days, you wondered what it would be like if you had never been with him at all. 

“I draw the line at hoping that Harry Potter gets tortured and murdered by Voldemort.”

Draco rounded on you quickly, panic seeping into his eyes. “Don't use his name.”

You stood up then, relishing in the fact that, since he was sitting on the edge of his bed, you were a couple of inches taller than him. 

“Of course not. Wouldn’t want to offend your master.”

He shook his head. “No, not that. It’s - they’re going to put a taboo on it. Make it so that any time someone uses his name, they’ll know. Death Eaters, or… people loyal to him. The fucking Order is the only people who say it out loud anymore.”

“Oh,” you said, “that’s - I won’t use his name.”

Draco stood too, resuming his usual stature. You looked up at him. He shut his eyes, then took a deep breath. 

“We should stop arguing,” you said, knowing that that’s what he needed and understanding at the same time that he would never say it out loud to you. 

“Right,” he returned, “let’s stop.”

You couldn’t help but think that this argument would never really end. It would go on and on, brewing inside both of you, until one of you either switched sides or fucked off completely. And you weren’t planning on switching sides. 

Which made the possible outcomes for your relationship either Draco defecting from the Death Eaters at significant personal risk or just breaking up outright. Or one of you dying. 

You nodded at him, wondering if he was thinking the same thing. 

But whatever he was thinking, you were both pulled out of your heads when you heard a banging noise from downstairs. Loud enough to carry through the door. 

He ran to the door in an instant, and you weren’t far behind. You spilled out onto the landing. 

They were back. You caught sight of Lucius’s hair and saw Draco’s shoulders relax beside you. You recognized Bellatrix, the blond man - Rowle, the man with the beard - Dolohov, and two other men. One resembled Crabbe - his father, if you had to guess. The other, a shorter man with a thinning mustache, you had never seen before. 

And following them was Lord Voldemort himself, his face contorted with such rage that he looked even less human than usual.

Draco rushed down the stairs, and you followed without a second thought, grabbing for his arm. You thought desperately that you needed to get him back to his room, out of danger, but it was too late for that. 

The Death Eaters had seen him. And they had seen you, too. 

“Draco,” Voldemort rasped as Draco entered the room. You hesitated on his heels for a second, but the damage was already done. You walked in after him. 

“And who do we have here?” He asked, gesturing at you. His fingernails looked like they had come from some sort of prehistoric animal. 

He tossed a broken wand to the side, and you recognized the deep black, the silver holster—Lucius’s. 

You watched in transfixed horror as the largest snake you had ever seen slithered into the room, winding its way across the floor. The Death Eaters - there were even more than you had seen from the landing - moved out of its way with haste. 

It reached Voldemort’s side, rearing its head up, its beady black tongue flicking back and forth out of its mouth. Voldemort reached down and lightly brushed it with his skeletal hand. 

You remembered what Draco had said about the death of Charity Burbage. It had something to do with this snake. It hissed, and Voldemort made a sound back that you recognized as being Parseltongue. 

“The blood-traitor we informed you of,” Lucius spoke.

Voldemort turned his reddened eyes on you for the first time. 

“A blood-traitor, they call you,” he said, taking a step closer to you. You tried to calm your quickening heartbeat. 

You said nothing back. 

Voldemort leered. “I know who you are. I looked for your parents, but they seem to have… disappeared. No matter. They’ll turn up at some point. I’ll be waiting.”

Your face must have given away the fear that was coursing through your veins, and he seemed to feed on it. “Oh, yes, Lord Voldemort will be waiting. I have yet to decide what I’ll do with them.”

He took one more step towards you. 

“Your Aunt is a muggle, is she not?” He asked. 

“Mudblood scum,” one of the Death Eaters murmured, but Voldemort held up his right hand and the room fell silent. 

You nodded. 

“But we can hardly blame you for your Uncle’s mistakes, can we? Your blood, at least, is pure.”

You felt like you were being tricked into something.

One of the Death Eaters murmured something you couldn’t quite catch. Voldemort turned around quickly, and you let out a breath, the shock of the situation slowly seeping away into even greater fear. 

“Draco, your wand.” Draco handed it over.

 _“Crucio,”_ Voldemort said casually, and one of the Death Eaters whose name you didn’t know doubled over, groaning in pain. 

After a couple of seconds, Voldemort pulled the wand away. “Silence,” he said, then turned back to you. 

“Yes, you are pure,” he mused.

“My Lord,” Lucius started, “she’s made her loyalties very clear to -”

Voldemort let out a sort of growl, and Lucius fell silent at once.

“Some would say she’s been more faithful than you, Lucius. More bold, at least. You, who did not search for me in my absence… you, whose wand proved less powerful than I could have imagined.”

You understood that his statement was made not out of any respect towards you, but instead to shame Lucius in front of the crowd, making him feel weak and afraid. But at least he hadn’t turned his anger on you. 

“Let us begin,” Voldemort said, still brandishing Draco’s wand in his right hand. His voice had an edge to it - but of course it did. He hadn’t caught Potter. You remembered the casual flick of the wand with which he had tortured one of the Death Eaters just for murmuring something and were struck with a heightened sense of dread. 

You did not want to be here. 

“My Lord,” Snape spoke for the first time. “Perhaps those whose loyalty hasn’t yet been proven…” he gestured in your direction.

Voldemort turned to you for the second time. “Yes, go,” he said, but your feet felt frozen to the floor. His face hardened. “Go. I haven’t decided what I’ll do with you yet.”

You dug your thumbnail into your palm, made yourself nod, and turned to leave. As soon as you left the room, you were running up the stairs and through Draco’s doorway. You buried yourself in his sheets, breathing in the smell of him to distract you from the look of Voldemort’s skin, the tinge of blood red in his irises. 

You heard a bang from downstairs, and you grabbed for your wand, wordlessly shutting the door. Picturing what was happening down there, especially when Draco was in the room, was almost too much to bear. 

You couldn’t imagine being in there, watching Voldemort’s rage force its way out of him in curses and torture. Draco had to witness that, had to sit through it and put on a face of disinterest. 

You forced yourself to stay awake until he came back. 

You thought you might hear his footsteps, but you were alerted to his presence when the door swung open, casting light over your face. You sat up, taking him in. 

His hands were shaking; his hair was messy. He had his wand with him - Voldemort hadn’t kept it. He lingered in his doorway for a second, staring at you, then cut the distance between you. You slipped out of bed, standing on the floor in front of him. 

“What happened?” You asked softly, but he didn’t answer. 

He took a couple of shaky breathes, eyes stilled on yours. 

“What happened?” You tried again. 

Then his lips collided with yours.

You had kissed since being at the Manor, but never like this. You had been trapped in your room for almost a month, not allowed to even talk to him. Even though you lived in his room now, he was gone more often than not, and you were only allowed downstairs for meals.

When he returned at night, he was always tired or shaky, and if you were awake, you just put your arms around him and leaned into him, keeping your breath steady and hoping he would match it. Sometimes he would lean into your lips when you were both half-asleep.

This was different. You felt the familiar lighting shoot through your body. He pressed your body into him, leaning you back against the edge of the bed, and you exhaled into his lips. 

You broke apart, but Draco rested his forehead against yours, your noses touching, his lips only an inch from yours. 

“Distract me,” he whispered, and you wound a hand into his hair as you leaned your lips up into his. “Just make me forget everything.”

His hand strayed from the small of your back to your leg, and he pulled it up towards his waist. Then his other hand was on your other leg, and he lifted you into the air slightly, tossing you down easily back onto the bed and crawling on top of you. 

He pushed you back into the mattress, then leaned back slightly to take off his shirt and tug off his trousers. He ran his hands up your thigh as he leaned back in, moving them over your waist and up your chest, using them to pull off your nightgown in one fluid motion. 

You held your breath as he hovered over you, staring at you for just a second, and you exhaled as he connected his lips to your neck, sucking hard. 

Then his mouth was moving lower, and your breath hitched as his teeth grazed your nipple. He moved his tongue over it lightly, slowly. You whimpered, anchoring your hand in his hair, trying to hold him against you forever.

He started sucking, not being gentle, his teeth and his tongue in tandem. You arched your back into him, your mind clouding with lust, a need for him to keep going. He bit down. You moaned softly, opening your eyes to stare at the ceiling high above you. 

He bit down again, and you moaned louder this time. You felt one of his hands come to the small of your back, steadying you against him. 

“Kiss me,” you whispered, and his hand on your back tightened. 

His lips slowly worked their way back up your chest, perfect and excruciating, until your body was humming in anticipation, the thought of his lips on yours taking up every bit of space in your head. 

As soon as his lips touched yours, you deepened the kiss, moving your hand from his hair to his neck and pulling him to you. You licked across his bottom lip, asking for permission. He gave it to you. 

Your tongues slipped together, and his hands came up from the mattress to hold either side of your face, his thumbs pressing into your cheeks, holding you to him. 

You broke apart, and he held you away from him for a second, gazing at you. His eyes were dark with lust, but you thought you saw a flicker of something else there, too. Sadness.

You were overcome with a fierce determination to get rid of it, to do precisely what he had asked you to do - make him forget everything. 

You returned your lips to his, forceful this time, not asking for permission. You dug your nails into the back of his neck as you kissed him, grazing his bottom lip through your teeth. You pushed at his right shoulder, rolling your body over and feeling him comply, moving so that you were on top of him. 

You didn’t break the kiss, instead taking one of your hands away from his shoulder, trailing it down his chest and sliding it over his dick. 

_“Fuck,”_ Draco breathed, stroking into your hand. You lined him up against you, felt him tense when you moved your hand to wrap around his waist. 

He copied your motion, his hand coming off the mattress to press against your waist. It was more gentle than you imagined. 

Then you rocked your hips against him, shivering a little bit as he thrust upwards, inside you. His hand on your waist was no longer gentle - joined by his other hand, they pressed into your skin, moving your body up and down the way he liked it.

He lifted you and dropped you back down onto him in a quick rhythm, and you moved with it, matching him. You closed your eyes, lost in the feeling of him against you, inside you. 

He sat up a bit, moving his hands to your back, leaning closer to you so that you could rest your head against his as he continued to thrust into you. 

“God, I want you so bad,” he said into the shell of your ear, “I’ve always wanted you.”

“You have me,” you said back, clutching at his shoulders, whimpering. 

His hands were everywhere at once, your back, your thighs, your waist, your breasts. You hung onto him for dear life as he somehow got faster, leaning into him, breathing out quiet moans into his ear. 

He thrust into you again, but didn’t pull out this time. He just held you against him. You exhaled, feeling him deep inside of you. You wrapped your arms around his back, rolling your hips against him to get him even deeper. 

_“Draco,”_ you whispered against his ear, and he answered you with a moan. 

There was a second silence then, the air filling with the sound of both your ragged breaths mingling in the air. 

Then he flipped you over and stroked back into you. If anything, it was faster than it had been before, and you bit into his shoulder to keep yourself from being too loud. Your fingernails raked down his back, your legs coming up to wrap against him too, anything to pull him further into you. 

You could tell he was close, tell by the way his breath caught, the way he sped up, chasing it. He looked down at you, catching your eyes and holding them. Staring. You felt yourself draw closer too, your body humming with his electricity. 

He took his hand off your waist, moving down to circle your clit with practiced, fluid movements. You tilted your head back and shut your eyes, feeling with every fiber of your body just how close you were. 

“Say it again,” he breathed, “my name.” 

You did it without a second thought. 

“Draco,” you moaned, reaching your high as you said it, “Draco, Draco, _Draco…”_

That was enough. His hips froze inside you. His hands - one moved to your waist, the other wrapped around your neck - both squeezed down as your body squirmed and stuttered underneath him. You felt him come, then stroke into you once, twice more, until he was really done. 

He pulled out of you then, rolling off you. He took a couple of breaths. They were shaky, but not with sadness.

“Fuck,” he said, “let me just…” He trailed off and shook his head slightly, as if in disbelief. 

You felt your muscles loosening as you recovered, slow breaths, and you rolled onto your side to face him, throwing an arm across his chest. He responded in kind, looping his arm underneath your body and lifting you towards him until you were pressed together. 

Your mind was cloudy, hazy in the best way. All your doubts and fears seemed not to exist; your argument from earlier had never happened. As you drifted off in his arms, your thoughts didn’t stray to the things your friends had yelled after you when you ran out of the castle like they usually did. They just stayed in bed with him, breathing in time, grounded.

____________________________

Distracting each other from the world around you became a bit of a hobby. And you had to admit, it worked. Every time you lay in bed with him, bare chests pressed together, sweat and heavy breathing and hands tangled in hair, it was like you only existed in that moment, like everything else in the world was scripted.

It was August 1st now. Or maybe August 2nd - it was late enough at night to have drifted into the morning. All had been calm, or at least as calm as possible, since the night that the Death Eaters had failed to capture Harry. 

“Don’t go to sleep,” Draco murmured against you, and you stirred.

“Why not?”  
“I just want you to stay awake for a little while.”

You nodded, blinking a couple of times to remind your eyes to stay open. 

Suddenly, the door banged open. You felt Draco tense beside you, and you turned your head to see Narcissa standing in his doorway. 

“Mother,” Draco said. His voice sounded calm, even, but you thought you could hear undertones of uncertainty and fear beneath it. You guessed his mother could hear them too. 

Draco sat up in bed a bit, and the blankets fell off his bare chest. You turned away from the door, feeling your cheeks heating up. Narcissa and Lucius weren’t stupid, you knew they must have some notion of what was going on between you two, but it was a topic best left entirely untouched by everyone involved. 

You couldn’t see Narcissa’s face, but she kept her voice controlled. “Get dressed, both of you. Downstairs.”

“What?” Draco asked.

“He’s _here,_ Draco,” Narcissa hissed, “downstairs, now.”

Draco moved into action at once. He released his hold on you and reached onto the floor for his pants, sliding them on underneath the covers and getting out of bed. He walked a couple of feet away to where he had discarded his shirt earlier. 

“Both of you,” Narcissa said. Draco stiffened, turning to her.

“Both of us?”  
“Yes, he wants to speak to you both. Hurry.”

You heard a couple of footsteps and turned back towards the door to see that she had disappeared from the doorway. 

You got out of bed, pulling on your nightgown. You didn’t have any other clothes here, and you hadn’t even been wearing a bra, but there was no way you could get a dress from the room at the end of the hall now. 

You looked up and noticed that Draco was frozen, staring back at the doorway. You walked up to him and rested your hand gently on his back. 

“Come on.”

“I don’t understand why he wants you there,” Draco whispered. 

You rubbed your hand up and down slightly, trying to reassure him. Truthfully, you had come to terms with the fact that you would probably have to do this at some point. Ever since you followed Draco downstairs a week ago and heard the Dark Lord speak, you knew that this moment would come. 

Apparently, Draco hadn’t believed that it would.

“Come on,” you said again, trying to keep your voice devoid of any fear. 

He pulled on a sweater, and you shifted your hand from his back to his arm, holding it gently as you walked towards the doorway together. You tried to focus on him beside you instead of letting yourself think of what could happen, of what terrible things he could do. 

Why was he even here?

Narcissa was waiting for you outside, standing on the landing a couple of paces away. You didn’t miss the coldness in her gaze when she trained her eyes on you. Glaring. You dropped Draco’s arm, feeling juvenile and vulnerable in your nightgown. 

She spoke quickly and quietly. “Potter and the other two set off the taboo earlier tonight in London. Rowle and Dolohov went to get them, but - well, they failed. They’re... downstairs.”

You heard them before you saw them. Voldemort’s raspy voice, punctured by rage, hissing something. The door swung open. 

It was just Voldemort, Lucius, Dolohov, and Rowle in the room. You didn’t miss Lucius sending Narcissa a pointed look that clearly screamed _leave._

She did. 

“Ah, but who do we have here?” Voldemort practically purred as you and Draco stepped into the room. 

“My Lord,” Draco said. You decided it would be wise to copy him. You bowed your head. 

“My Lord.”

“Indeed. Draco, your left arm, please.”

You noticed a flicker of panic in Draco’s eyes, but he held out his left arm anyway, taking a step towards Voldemort. You wondered with a strike of terror whether Voldemort would hurt him. 

But instead, he just pushed the sleeve of Draco’s sweater up, revealing his Dark Mark. The sight of it was still haunting, but you didn’t feel the overpowering impulse to look away from it that you once had. 

It looked different. The skull’s jaw was lowering, the snake writhing, moving further and further down his arm. It was a clear signal.

“Rowle,” Voldemort murmured, still staring at Draco’s arm, “the Mark is calling.”

Rowle - the one with broad shoulders and blonde hair - looked down at the floor. 

“My Lord,” he said, not bothering to hide his obvious fear, “we thought we had him, my Lord. And it wasn't me who called you.”

Voldemort dropped Draco’s arm, and you let out a small sigh of relief. 

“You had Harry Potter in your grasp. And you call your master back to tell me what?”

Rowle’s eyes darted back and forth as if trying to find a way out of the situation. Dolohov stepped back almost imperceptibly, doing his best to blend into the shadows of the room. 

“What did you call me back to tell me?” Voldemort said, a definite edge of rage to his voice. 

“He… escaped, my Lord,” Rowle said. His hand gripped his wand so tightly that his knuckles were whitening. As if he could raise it against his master and hope to live. 

“Yes, he escaped. He escaped for the second time this week,” Voldemort wasn't facing you - he had turned to look Rowle in the eyes - and you found yourself incredibly grateful for it. 

In the shadows at the edge of the room, his snake stirred.

“Draco,” Voldemort said, turning his head slightly so that he could see you both out of the corner of his eye, “your wand?”

Draco brought out his wand without a second’s delay, holding it up for Voldemort to take. But he didn’t take it. Instead, you watched as a curious expression took over his face. He took a step to the side so that he was no longer standing between you and Rowle. 

“Draco…” Voldemort repeated, relishing every syllable, “Why don’t you give Rowle a taste of our displeasure.”

Draco seemed frozen to the spot as it dawned on him what Voldemort was asking him to do. You recalled the gaunt expression he had worn on the top of the Astronomy Tower as he held Dumbledore at wandpoint - he looked eerily similar now. 

“Go on,” Voldemort drawled, “impress us.”

You wanted to be able to go to his side now, rest your hand on the small of his back. But you knew you couldn’t. You stayed rooted to the spot. 

_“Crucio,”_ Draco said.

Rowle gasped in pain, his knees buckling slightly. His eyes widened, and he grabbed onto the bookshelf next to him for support. 

“Come on,” Voldemort hissed, clearly unimpressed, “you have to _mean it.”_

You watched Draco steel himself, square his shoulders. 

_“Crucio!”_

Rowle screamed. You jumped, surprised that he was capable of making a sound like that. His knees gave way immediately, and he fell onto the floor. His limbs twitched. His face was frozen in shock, twisting with excruciation. 

Voldemort laughed, turning to face Rowle, taking him in completely. The snake emerged from the shadows, slithering through the room towards her master. Draco looked petrified, but he kept his wand raised and his hand still. 

“More, Rowle, or should we feed you to Nagini and be done with it?” Voldemort growled. “I am not quite so ready to forgive you this time… more, Draco -”

Draco faltered slightly, his hand lowering. Voldemort’s features hardened even more, his eyes narrowing. 

“More, or you’ll feel my wrath yourself!”

Draco gripped his wand harder, pointing it at Rowle and calling out _“Crucio!”_ again. 

At some point, you looked away, wrapping your arms around your chest. Despite the heat radiating from the fireplace, you felt a deep cold seeping into you.


	61. The Platform

The notion that you were leaving the Manor, going back to Hogwarts, felt almost too good to be true. Living here all summer had felt like being imprisoned. Even when you were with Draco, nothing felt the same. 

It was like there was an oppressive cloud above your head as big as the shadow of the Manor. Moments that should have been calm and intimate were poisoned with the knowledge that the wizarding world was at war, and that it was very unclear what side you were on. 

Every room in the Manor, with its lofty ceilings and stern portraits, was tainted by the image of Voldemort, the knowledge that he had been here before and that he would come here again. 

There was a week or two where you thought that you wouldn’t be allowed to go back to Hogwarts, that nobody would. Once the Ministry had fallen to Voldemort, it felt like everything would change. 

But all students who could prove their blood status had to return to the castle under new law, so you and Draco would be getting on the train this afternoon. 

Little bits of doubt flickered in the back of your mind. The Ministry had announced Snape as the new Headmaster, and the Carrows would be taking over the now vacant posts of Defense Against the Dark Arts and Muggle Studies. Would returning there be an escape at all? Or would it just be a new form of torture?

You tried to quiet your thoughts as you pulled on a long black overcoat. You still only had access to some Malfoy or Black ancestor’s forgotten clothes, and they remained incredibly formal. You supposed it was lucky that you were in Slytherin - at least they had robes for you. 

You stared at yourself in Draco’s vanity. This was it. 

Draco was waiting for you at the end of the stairs. He was also dressed in black - a monochrome suit with a high-necked sweater under it. He took your arm silently, leading you into the foyer. 

Narcissa and Lucius were waiting by the door with a couple of other Death Eaters - Dolohov and Macnair - who would be accompanying you to King’s Cross. 

The last time you had been to King’s Cross, it had been with your parents at the end of last summer. Almost a year ago. The last time you had seen them. 

You had to leave the grounds of the Manor before you could apparate - they had been temporarily lifted on the night of Dumbledore’s death to allow you to come back, but the ban had been replaced.

You walked down the pathway, still holding onto Draco’s arm. A small rebellion. You would have smiled at him if you didn’t feel a bit sick to your stomach. 

The wrought iron gates opened soundlessly, and you stepped through them. For a second, you thought about glancing back at the Manor. You hadn’t left it for two months. But, honestly, you never wanted to see it again. 

“To the front of King’s Cross,” Lucius said sternly, his hand on his cane. 

You let go of Draco. You hated the feeling of apparating, but side-alonging was even worse. 

“(Y/N),” Narcissa said suddenly, and you glanced up at her warily. You didn’t think you had ever heard her use your first name before. “A word?”

Lucius’s brow furrowed. 

“We’ll meet you there,” she said.   
“Hurry,” he replied, then vanished with a crack.

The two Death Eaters apparated too, leaving just you, Draco, and his mother standing outside the gates. 

“Go, Draco,” she said, her eyes still fixed on you, betraying no emotion. 

He looked as if he was about to say something, then thought better of it. Another crack cut the air. He was gone. Your eyes flicked to where he had been standing, then returned to Narcissa. 

She was standing across from you, a couple of feet away. She made no move to get closer. A slight breeze tore through the air. It was chilly for the end of August, and you knew the train would be cold, but you suddenly felt stuffy under your coat. 

“It’s no secret what transpires between you and my son,” she said plainly. “Did you think it was?”

“No,” you replied truthfully. Narcissa was a smart woman. She had to be, coming from the family that she did and marrying into Lucius’s. She knew that you stayed in his room every night - she had walked in to find you naked in bed together. 

“Then let me make this clear to you,” she said, and you were struck at once by a heavy feeling of apprehension. “I do not approve of you. You have brought nothing but disquietude and shame into our home. I understand that you made a choice in coming here... I hope it is as clear to you as it is to me that it was the wrong one.”

You had never operated under the impression that Draco’s parents would welcome you into their family with open arms. That very fact had always been a dormant sense of foreboding in your relationship. 

Still, hearing the words said aloud to you - and by his mother, not his father - made you feel like your body was curling in on itself. You felt tears prick the corners of your eyes, that strange stinging sensation in your nose.

But as you stood in the hot air in your black overcoat, the iron gate casting a short shadow onto the pathway behind you, another feeling crept into you. 

You hadn’t made the wrong choice in coming here. Despite the fact that it felt like a prison, despite the cold stature of everyone inside and the hot fear of Voldemort’s presence, you would do it again. 

You felt the knowledge deep in your bones every time you woke up to Draco beside you. You felt it even when you woke up and he was gone. You knew you had made the right decision before you even came to the Manor - you knew as soon as you saw the expression on his face as you ran to him in the dark.

“I didn’t make the wrong decision,” you said, relieved that your voice came out strong and sure. The breeze picked up, and you felt yourself grow more sure. “I did what I had to do to be with him. I’d do it again.”

Her face didn’t change as you spoke, but you thought you saw her eyes narrow the slightest bit.

“Just like your mother,” she said.

The growing resistance within you clawed its way to your surface. People loved to talk about your parents - how your mother had hated your father at first. There had always been rumors about his money being involved in their eventual decision to marry. It wasn't true.

“Don’t speak about my mother.” You took a step towards her. “I could’ve gone home. I could’ve been with her - her and my father both. But I didn’t. I followed him instead. I was on the Tower with him.”

She was silent. Her eyes dropped from yours, and you felt a flicker of victory in your stomach. Had you gotten through to her?

Then her gaze caught on something, and her eyes returned to yours immediately. They had a strange edge to them that hadn’t been there before. She took a step towards you, then another one. 

“How did you know to follow him? How did you know where he would be?”

“I - I woke up with everyone else, I -”  
“No, you didn’t. Did Draco tell you his plan?”

You shook your head. “No - not exactly. I mean, I knew what he was doing. But not when or where or how…”

She took another step towards you so that you were truly face to face. 

“Then how could you know to go to the Tower?”

Your mind reeled. Why was she so concerned with how you got to him? You tried to think of something to say, but before you could, she brought her hand up from her side and gestured towards your neck. 

“Was it because of that?” She asked, and you looked down. She was pointing at your necklace.

You looked back up. Her eyes pierced yours, unflinching. 

“Tell me exactly what happened,” she said slowly, and you noticed that her voice had changed. It was still cold, but no longer quite as biting. 

You shook your head slowly. How could you tell her about the voices? You would sound insane. But as she looked fiercely into your eyes, you had a strange notion that she already knew the answer. 

“His voice…” You trailed off. “I heard his voice.”

Narcissa took a step back, studying you. She had looked at you many times before, but her eyes screamed something different now. 

“Keep it on,” she said, then took another step back from you. You looked at her warily, waiting for her to say something else, to explain how she knew. But she didn’t. “We shouldn’t keep them waiting,” she said instead. She fixed you with one last stare before she apparated. 

You followed suit. 

The squeezing feeling in your stomach disappeared a couple of seconds after you materialized outside King’s Cross. It was a bleak day in London - clouds obscured the sun, and wind whipped through the streets. 

Draco, Lucius, Dolohov, and Macnair were waiting by the doors. Narcissa was already walking up the steps, and you followed her, your coat trailing behind you, picked up by the wind. You were glad you had worn it. 

You and Draco walked onto the platform first, followed by Narcissa and Lucius, followed by Dolohov and Macnair. 

Platform 9 ¾ was barely a shadow of what it once was. The usual revelry had been drained out of the air. It was almost silent - the only conversations were being held in whispers. 

Instead of yelling and running and embracing, students lined up single-file to get on the train, their heads bowed. Parents stood off to the side, clutching each other’s arms, looking as if they were sending their children off to war. 

Well. They _were_ going to war. 

The Platform was usually flooded in light, but the windows on the opposite side had been darkened, and the clinical light coming from the ceiling threw harsh shadows everywhere, blurring people’s faces. 

A couple of copies of the _Daily Prophet_ lay on the ground, feebly stirring. 

Pius Thicknesse, the new Minister of Magic, stood off to the side, overseeing the scene. His head swayed lightly on his shoulders - he had been Imperiused, under the complete control of Voldemort. You looked away quickly. 

It was hard to miss the stares. Adults and children alike cast you wary looks. 

You wiped your expression blank, keeping your head held high as you and Draco walked deeper into the platform, tailed by his parents and the two Death Eaters. Dolohov pulled the sleeve of his robes back with a flourish, revealing the twisting form of the Dark Mark. You heard someone gasp and struggled to keep facing forward. 

Every single person on the Platform watched as you and Draco separated from the rest of your group, turning around to nod at them. Draco embraced his mother quickly. 

The line for the train dispersed as you got near it. Students shied away, receding towards the wall. You recognized a couple of them - people that had tried out for the Slytherin Quidditch team, people who you had sat near in classes and casually joked with. 

You grabbed Draco’s arm, getting on the train without another look back.

There was no reason for Voldemort to give you accompaniment to the Hogwarts Express - no reason that had to do for your safety, anyway. 

No, this show of strength served another purpose entirely. As you got onto the train and the Death Eaters moved back towards the entrance to the Platform, everyone who had seen you now knew exactly what Voldemort wanted them to - that he had people on the inside. Not just professors - students. 

Draco’s arm snaked around your waist as soon as you stepped into the corridor of the train. You leaned into him, squeezing your eyes shut, and let him guide you to an empty compartment. 

He threw the doors shut with a flick of his wand. You sank down, dropping your head into your hands, and he sat next to you. 

“What did my mother say to you?”

You took your head out of your hands, staring through the window as the train pulled away from Platform 9 ¾. There was nothing to do but tell him the truth. You didn’t bother looking back at him, not sure if you wanted to see the look on his face. 

“That she disapproves of me. That I made the wrong choice, following you.”

He was silent for a second. Then, “oh.”

You turned back to him. “Oh?”

“She was never going to like you. Neither was my father. I never thought they would.”

“Well, you were right,” you said, feeling suddenly very disconnected from the situation. You may as well have been floating above the train, watching your body through a skylight. 

You leaned against him anyway, shutting your eyes. You hadn’t slept much in the past couple of days. You kept yourself up worrying about the future.

When you opened your eyes, you saw a couple of chocolate frogs lying on the seat next to you, along with a copy of the _Daily Prophet._ The new version, controlled by Voldemort - you hadn’t seen it yet. 

‘THE MUGGLE-BORN REGISTRATION COMMISSION REQUESTS THE FOLLOWING FOR INTERROGATION’

You quickly scanned the list of names. _Hermione Granger._ You realized you hadn’t seen Ron, Hermione, or Harry on the Platform. Strange. Maybe you had just missed them. You hadn’t seen your friends either, but you tamped down that thought. 

You kept going down the list, freezing when you hit _Dean Thomas._ You stared at his name in the black ink for a couple of seconds, then threw the paper down on the ground. 

You looked up at Draco to see that he was intently studying something in his hand. You leaned towards him again and recognized it as a chocolate frog card. Albus Dumbledore. 

“Draco…” you trailed off, and he let you take it from him. You put it on the floor on top of the _Prophet._ Looking at either little reminder of what you had gotten yourself caught up in was too much. 

The Great Hall looked the same as it always did. Instead of being comforting, though, it was disquieting. Snape was sitting in Dumbledore’s big gold chair at the center of the table. The Carrow twins also had places at the table. 

You intended to walk to your seat at the far end of the table as quickly as possible, wanting to avoid any more stares. It was strange - you used to love being the center of attention. You used to walk into the Great Hall in your Quidditch clothes, holding your broom, talking loudly, relishing the feeling of eyes on you. 

Now, you just wanted to get it over with. You glanced over towards the Gryffindor table. Harry, Ron, and Hermione _were_ absent, then. 

As your gaze returned to the Slytherin table, you froze.

Sebastian, Tracey, and Simon were sitting where they always did. You had been burying your fears about what might have broken between you all summer, but now they were confronting you in full force. 

Tracey looked up to make eye contact with you. Her jaw was set, her eyes narrowed. Your friends often joked that Tracey’s glare could turn someone to stone. You never expected her to turn it on you, though. 

Sebastian and Simon didn’t even look up - their eyes stayed determinedly on their plates. Tracey shook her head decisively at you. And where was Sadie?

You felt your head spin a little bit. You weren’t sure what you were expecting - anger, yes - you knew you would need to explain. But this wasn't the hotheaded rage of a friend. This was the cold, unwavering anger of people who no longer wanted anything to do with you anymore. 

You wheeled around immediately, running into Draco’s chest. He brought his hand to your waist, steadying you. 

You looked up at him, and he looked back at you, clearly understanding as well as you did that you had just unquestionably lost any semblance of friendship with the people you had been hanging out with since first-year. 

You had had a single room since third year, but this was the first time that it had ever felt truly lonely. Right around this time on the first day of every new term, you, Sadie, and Tracey would go down and hang out in Sebastian and Simon’s room. 

You felt empty and lost without it. _Just go to Draco’s._ You walked down the stairs, feeling a bit sick to your stomach. 

Horrifyingly, Sebastian and Simon’s door was open. You couldn’t help but peer inside. Simon and Sebastian were sitting on Sebastian’s bed, both laughing at something. Tracey was sitting on the ground, holding - yes, it was. Your cat. She must have taken her after you left last year. 

You must have lingered for a little too long, though, because Sebastian looked up and saw you in the doorway. The smile dropped off his face at once, and he turned to whisper something to Simon. 

Simon met your eyes too, then held up his wand. The door swung closed. 

You stood on the spot for a second, then turned and ran the rest of the way towards Draco’s room. He opened his door, pulling you in immediately when he saw the expression on your face. 

“You can’t,” he implored, “we can’t let people see you weak. It’s dangerous.”

You went and sat on the edge of his bed, curling your legs to your chest. 

“Don’t you get it?” You asked, staring out his window into the lake. It was empty. Not even the fish wanted to get near you anymore. “They hate me.”

“Fuck them,” he said. “Fuck everyone who isn’t us.” You saw him come closer to you out of the corner of your eye. “Yeah?” He asked. 

You nodded. He came beside you, his hands snaking under your sweater. You raised your arms, letting him take it off you. _Fuck everyone who isn’t us._ Only it wasn't a choice anymore.


	62. Dark Arts

The windows were closed, the classroom barren besides the desks and a little wooden box at the front of the room. 

Seeing as all the muggle-born students had been kicked out of school, and some half-blood and pureblood families had gone into hiding out of fear, class sizes were small enough that every N.E.W.T. class included every student that was taking it. 

This meant that you shared all your classes with Draco. Which was a good thing - he was the only person in the school who didn’t openly hate you. 

Your friends refusing to talk to you had been the lowest blow, but you didn’t miss the dirty looks from people who you’d never had any problems with, like the Patil twins, and people who you had once considered friends, like Ginny and Neville. 

You and Draco sat together in every class, keeping to yourselves, trying to ignore the hatred radiating off of every other person in the room. You had to routinely put your hand on Draco’s arm to dissuade him from hexing people.

The door at the end of the classroom swung open, and Amycus Carrow swept in. His face was pointed, scarred, and his long black robes furled behind him as he made his way through the lines of desks towards the front of the classroom. 

The class that had once been Defense Against the Dark Arts had become simply Dark Arts. The difference between the two was monumental. 

“Let’s begin,” Amycus said, and you raised your eyes to level with him, “with the Unforgivable curses.”

It reminded you of the first Defense Against the Dark Arts class of fourth year, when Crouch had demonstrated the three Unforgivables on a grasshopper. It was somewhat horrifying to watch, but the windows had been open, and Crouch’s jovial spirit under disguise as Moody had made the lesson more interesting than macabre.

This was different. When Amycus spoke about the Unforgivables, he did so with a caress in his tone, a loving embrace. Watching the pain and horror that they inflicted upon others was the great joy of his life. 

“Who can tell me what they are?” He leered, playing teacher. 

Nobody responded. Amycus started moving through the rows again, coming to rest behind Neville. 

“Mr. Longbottom…” he trailed off, “I believe you’re well-acquainted with one of them. Or, at least, your parents were.”

Neville set his shoulders and kept looking forward. “The Cruciatus Curse,” he said, voice strong and seemingly devoid of emotion. You felt a little flicker of pride - Neville had come a long way. 

“The Cruciatus curse, _sir,”_ Amycus corrected, but he left Neville’s side, continuing to stroll through the aisles. He came to rest on Lavender Brown, whose hands drummed anxiously on the desk she shared with Parvati. 

“Ms. Brown? Another one?”

“The Imperius Curse,” she whispered, eyes downcast, then added, “sir.”

“Very good,” Amycus drawled.

He surveyed the desks, his eyes scanning the room. A sinister smile lit up his face. 

“And who can tell me the third… Mr. Finnigan, perhaps?”

Seamus didn’t say anything. Amycus raised his eyebrows, his smile growing by a fraction. He walked over to where Seamus was sitting - he usually sat next to Dean, but Dean hadn’t come back to school this year. The thought made your chest pang with guilt. 

Amycus stood over Seamus, who was staring forward with a wild look in his eyes. 

“Mr. Finnigan,” Amycus said, “I asked you a question.”

Seamus continued his silence. 

“It’s not worth it, Seamus,” someone said, and Amycus held up his hand. 

“Silence,” he said. “Mr. Finnigan, I suggest you answer.”

There was a second where you weren’t sure that he would. Then he spoke. 

“The Killing Curse. Sir.”

Amycus lingered above his shoulder for a threatening moment, then moved back to the front of the classroom. He turned to address the class, eyes moving across the room like a predator taking in his prey for the first time. 

“Yes, the three Unforgivable Curses. So called because using any of them would get you a one-way ticket to Azkaban - or it used to. Not anymore… yes, not anymore.”

You forced yourself to keep eye contact with him. He took out his wand. 

“With this wand, I could make any of you feel such incredible pain you would think you were dying. I could use it to control any of your minds, make you think and do exactly as I wanted. I could kill you - end your existence with a wave.”

He said it not as a warning, but as a threat, like it was his dearest wish in all the world to be able to torture, control, and kill you. You reached your hand out under the desk and grabbed Draco’s. 

“And the Ministry of Magic believes that all young witches and wizards should be able to perform these curses accurately.”

He turned around, running his fingers over the length of the wooden box. Then he turned back to you, an unpleasant - almost lascivious - look taking over his face. 

“We’ll start, as we did today, with the Cruciatus Curse. Who would like to go first?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw almost everyone’s eyes flick downwards. You felt a chill go through you. Amycus surveyed the room again. 

Then, horrifyingly, his eyes landed on you. 

“Ah, yes… Mr. Malfoy and Ms. (Y/L/N). But then, you’ve practiced these spells before, haven’t you?” He strolled over towards your desk. “Perhaps a demonstration?”

It was clear that you couldn’t say no. You released Draco’s hand from your grip, standing up and walking to the front of the room as quickly as you could, Draco following you. You glanced back into the classroom to see Simon fixing you with a look of obvious disdain. 

Amycus pulled out his wand and pointed it at the little wooden box. One of the sides fell to the floor with a crack. 

To your horror, a raven walked out. It flapped its wings, trying to fly, but it had been charmed to stick to the ground. You heard a couple of people in the classroom gasp, and your stomach dropped.

“Go on,” Amycus leered, “show them how to do it.”

You couldn’t. You just couldn’t. You looked at Draco, desperation evident in your eyes. He nodded slightly, then turned back to the bird and lifted his wand. 

_“Crucio.” _He spoke clearly, his voice as emotionless as his face.__

__The raven’s body curled in on itself. It flapped its wings, then snapped them back into its side. Its head twisted as it let out a pitiful little squawk. Draco removed his wand. The bird remained on the ground, its head still shaking slightly._ _

__You turned away from it, not wanting to see its agony. You were met with the incredulous and disgusted faces of your classmates. All eyes fixed on you. You stared at your feet._ _

__“Ms. (Y/L/N),” Amycus drawled, “your turn.”_ _

__You gripped your wand, taking a deep breath._ _

__“Ah,” Amycus said, “but it seems the bird is already dead.”_ _

__You looked at where it lay on the floor, no longer stirring. Amycus walked up to it and nudged it with his foot. Unsatisfied, he kicked it, and its limp body slid a couple of feet across the floor._ _

__“What a shame,” Amycus mused._ _

__Walking through the halls had become an ordeal. You were always with Draco, had to be - there was nobody else willing to talk to you. You walked side-by-side, robes whipping behind you, reminding yourself to keep your shoulders back and your head held high. You couldn’t show any weakness._ _

__Most people moved out of your way when they saw you coming, ducking their heads into books or turning to their friends. The bolder ones glared at you. If Draco noticed, his face didn’t betray it. You tried to copy his blank expression._ _

__People often glanced down at his left arm as if they could see his Dark Mark through his robes. You had caught a couple of people glancing down at yours, too. You wondered whether the rest of the school thought you were marked by now._ _

__It wasn't just the other students that were outwardly scared of and disgusted by you. Your professors barely talked to you anymore. McGonagall acted almost as if you didn’t exist, and Flitwick jumped once when you pulled out your wand to practice a charm._ _

__You had taken Muggle Studies third year and hadn’t since, but it was a mandatory subject this year. You hadn’t learned anything about Muggles in terms of their technologies and practices - the class was more focused on how Muggles were inferior beings, almost animalistic, and certainly not deserving of a place within the wizarding world._ _

__It was always a challenge to listen to Alecto speak, but, for some reason, today was more challenging than most. Maybe it was because your thoughts kept reeling back to the bird lying dead on the floor of the Dark Arts classroom._ _

__You weren’t paying attention to anything that Alecto was saying. Instead, your eyes darted around the classroom. From what you remembered of the class from third year, it used to have Muggle paintings hanging on the walls and Muggle artifacts like toys, kettles, and electric grids displayed around the room in little glass cases._ _

__All that had been replaced by tapestries and pictures depicting Muggles as stupid and dirty, inferior life forms working for wizards._ _

__One showed a Muggle woman bending down in mud, scooping it up with her hands. She looked a bit like your Aunt Nina. You thought about your aunt - she and your uncle had gone into hiding just before your parents._ _

__And suddenly, her face morphed into the face of Charity Burbage, hanging upside down in the air, tears streaming down her cheeks, her mouth open, silently screaming._ _

__You felt like you were going to be sick._ _

__You got up, your chair scraping the ground behind you, and walked out of the classroom, trying to get your breathing under control. You didn’t bother throwing an excuse behind you - you and Draco were practically immune to punishment from the Death Eaters._ _

__It was far better to be seen leaving a classroom than it was to be seen crying. Draco’s words echoed in your mind as you turned into the hallway - _we can’t let people see you weak. It’s dangerous.__ _

__You pushed your hands through your hair, leaning up against the wall and digging your nail into your palm. It was what you had done to keep yourself from crying for years, but lately it wasn't as effective._ _

__“Are you thinking about her?” Draco’s voice said quietly, and you looked up to see that he had followed you out of the classroom. You didn’t have to ask to know who he was referring to. Charity._ _

__“Yeah,” you breathed, “I didn’t even properly see her, but I just...”_ _

__“I think about her too. Every time we’re in that classroom.”_ _

__He leaned against the wall next to you. Both of you stared out a window overlooking one of the courtyards. A couple of persistent flowers remained, a cluster in the corner, but you knew that the fall air would kill them soon enough._ _

__First, they would wilt. Then they would lose their color, desaturate into a lifeless sort of brown or gray. Finally, they would sink to the ground and disintegrate into dust. Unless someone stepped on them first._ _

__“I don’t know how I’m going to get through this year,” you said._ _

__“You have to.” His voice was quiet but firm._ _

__You stood there in silence for what simultaneously seemed like three hours and five minutes. You weren’t sure whether Draco’s presence was comforting you or making you uneasy._ _

__Eventually, the other seventh years started pouring out of the classroom. Most of them walked past you without noticing you standing there. The ones who did gave you a wide berth. Neville shot you a look of hatred._ _

__“Well, it’s no surprise, really,” you heard a voice say from behind you, and you turned around to see Tracey, Sebastian, and Simon leaving the room. Tracey made a show of pretending not to notice you, turning away to keep talking to the boys. “Of course they’d give her special privileges. She’s one of them now.”_ _

__“Death Eaters stick together,” Simon said, his tone icy._ _

__“Shut your fucking mouth, Dedworth,” Draco growled from beside you._ _

__Simon and Tracey turned around, raising their eyebrows. Sebastian didn’t turn, but stopped walking._ _

__“You always did love speaking for her, didn’t you,” Tracey returned, “but maybe you were right. You two deserve each other.”_ _

__Draco pushed off the wall, but you grabbed his arm. The last thing you wanted to do was wedge more of a gap between you and your friends. Well. Former friends._ _

__“Tracey, please. I don’t want -”_ _

__“It’s obvious what you _want,”_ Simon cut you off. “You showed us exactly what you wanted when you followed him out of the castle.”_ _

__Sebastian was still standing in the middle of the hallway, his face slightly turned towards your argument. From what you could see, he just looked sad._ _

__“I wasn't trying to choose him over you,” you said, injecting a bit of pleading into your tone._ _

__Tracey and Simon looked at each other with twin expressions of incredulity._ _

__“Oh, sure you weren’t.” Tracey turned back to you. “Pull up your sleeve, would you?”_ _

__You did it in an instant, desperate to prove that you weren’t one of them, that you would still side with your friends on everything. If they would just give you a moment to explain…_ _

__They both regarded your bare forearm, and you saw Sebastian twist his head a little more so that he could see it too. You pulled your sleeve back down and looked between them, trying to gauge what they were thinking._ _

__“Not marked yet?” Tracey asked, and you could tell by her tone that nothing had changed. “Well, that’s surprising.”_ _

__“I suppose it’s a matter of time,” Simon said._ _

__They turned to leave before you could say anything else. Your heart flickered with hope as you saw Sebastian lingering for a second, but he shook his head decisively and followed them, jogging a couple of steps to catch up._ _

__You stayed behind in Potions after the rest of the class left. You had just brewed an antidote for Veritaserum, following an incredibly tricky formula. It wasn't perfect, but Slughorn had confided to you quietly that it was the best in the class._ _

__Potions had become a bit of an escape for you. Though Slughorn was careful not to outwardly show it for fear of losing other members of his Slug Club, he still had a soft spot for you. Talking to him was the only semblance of normal left in your school year._ _

__“Very impressive work today, (Y/N). But that’s par for the course.”_ _

__You smiled. “Thanks, Professor.”_ _

__“Remember, it’s not all about quantities. I think -” he paused to take a look at the bottle you had placed on his desk, “I think you should have stirred it clockwise a couple more times.”_ _

__You nodded. “Right - I wasn't sure. I didn’t want it to be too thin.”_ _

__“Well, you would usually be correct in that. You’d always rather have an antidote on the thick side than the thin side.”_ _

__“That’s what I thought.”_ _

__He regarded you for a second._ _

__“I see a lot of your parents in you.”  
“Thanks, sir. Potions was their favorite subject.”_ _

__He chuckled. “I’m sure they just say that to butter me up - well, it works. Two of my favorite students. And how are they now?”_ _

__“I’m not sure, sir. I haven’t spoken to them in a while.”_ _

__“Of course. Well… I’m sorry.” He was._ _

__“I haven’t seen your friends yet - that Simon and Sadie. Two talented wizards. How are they?”_ _

__You could tell he was asking it to be friendly, to make you feel better about your parents. How could he possibly know that mentioning your friends would do the opposite?_ _

__“They’re good, Professor. I’ll let them know you asked.”_ _

__“Would you? That would be great.”_ _

__You didn’t bother going up to your room when you got back to the dungeons. You hadn’t been up there in something like three days, preferring to stay in Draco’s room instead._ _

__The boys’ hallway was emptier than usual as you made your way through it, knocking on Draco’s door. He opened it then stepped back, letting you in. The sun was going down above the lake, and its orange and red rays filtered down through the lake. It looked almost eerie._ _

__“I’m surprised you’re here,” he said, going to sit at his desk. He had a piece of parchment out - probably the beginning of his Transfiguration essay. You had to get started on that._ _

__“I’ve been staying in here for days,” you replied, slipping out of your robes and going to sit on his bed._ _

__“Is that by choice or by necessity?” He asked, a tangible bitterness in his tone._ _

__“What?”_ _

__“I mean, are you just in here because there’s nowhere else for you to go anymore?”_ _

__“Where is this coming from?”_ _

__He turned around in his chair, discarding his quill on his desk and fixing you with an odd expression. “You pulled up your sleeve like it was a fucking race, didn’t you.”_ _

__You raised your eyebrows._ _

__“Quick to prove that you aren’t like me.”  
“You’re angry that I don’t want my friends thinking I’m marked?”_ _

__Draco scoffed, getting up from the chair. The fading sunlight cast him in a sort of orange glow. “They aren’t your friends anymore, though, are they?”_ _

__You snapped your head to him, taken aback, but your surprise quickly melted into a bit of anger. He knew you were upset that they were refusing to talk to you, and now he was using it against you in an argument - typical selfish behavior._ _

__“I’m trying to fix it between us. I can’t do that if they think I’m a Death Eater - are you _dense?”__ _

__He took a step towards you, and you stood up from his bed, not wanting him to have any more height on you than he already did. He threw his arms open, raising his eyebrows at you and shaking his head in disbelief._ _

__“Am _I_ dense? Fucking hell, (Y/N)! Have you not seen the way people look at us in the hallway - you might as well be marked!”_ _

__“Why are you so pissed off about me wanting my friends back?”_ _

__“Because you - you chose me! You chose me over them. I don’t care how many times you say that wasn't what you meant. You _chose me.”__ _

__Your blood was boiling. “Who are you trying to convince, Draco - me or you?”_ _

__You stood in silence for a second, both breathing heavily. Then his arm shot out and grabbed you, dragging you towards him with such force that you gasped._ _

__But he cut off your breath with his lips. He kissed you aggressively, biting you, pushing his face against yours. He held you so close to him that you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to breathe right once you broke apart._ _

__“You chose me,” he growled into your lips, “you fucking chose me.”_ _

__You brought your hands up, intending to push him away, to step back and yell at him. But he grabbed them out of the air and shoved them away, pinning them behind your back. He kept kissing you. You kept kissing him._ _

__“Not them. Me.”_ _

__You nodded against him, whimpering into his lips._ _

__“Don’t forget it,” he said, “don’t you fucking forget it.”_ _

__You nodded again, and he pulled apart from you, releasing your hands from behind your back. You didn’t remember moving towards him, but you found yourself in his arms, melting against him, trying to regulate your breathing._ _

__You brought your hands up, gripping onto his back. He rubbed his thumb in tiny circles on the nape of your neck, calming you down. He knew what to do now. How could you be angry? How could you be angry when he was all you had?_ _

__“I couldn’t bear this without you,” you breathed._ _

__A strange sort of silence filled the air._ _

__“Me neither,” he said. So softly. It was like he didn’t even want you to hear it._ _

__But you did._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #justiceforkaya #justicefortheraven


	63. Blue Jays and Butterflies

You shoved your books back into your bag, throwing your quill in on top of them. You wanted nothing more than to get out of the Dark Arts classroom. The atmosphere was always heavy in here, and, judging by the number of glares sent your way, every other student seemed to think that you and Draco enjoyed Amycus’s teaching. 

But before you could leave, Amycus spoke. 

“I’d like the following students to remain behind - Malfoy, Longbottom, (Y/L/N), Zabini, Finnigan, Crabbe, Goyle, and Macmillan.”

You froze on the spot, swallowed, then went and sat back down at your desk. Your mind raced, coming up with increasingly horrible possibilities for what he would make you do. 

You looked around to see that everyone else had left. It was just the eight of you and Amycus left in the classroom. 

“Bring them in, Alecto!” He called out. 

The door to the classroom opened, and Amycus’s sister walked in, followed by ten younger students. They couldn’t have been older than third year.

“Thank you for staying behind,” Amycus drawled - as if you had a choice. “You’ll be helping these students serve detention today.”

You felt Draco tense next to you and shot him a look. He didn’t meet your eye, but stood up abruptly. 

“Eager to begin, Draco?” Amycus leered. Draco approached him, leaning in to say something that you couldn’t make out. 

As he spoke, a shadow passed over Amycus’s face, and his eyes flicked over to you. Draco finished speaking and stepped back. Amycus regarded you for a second, then -

“Very well. (Y/N), you’re excused.”

You stood up, but froze on your feet. You tried to catch Draco’s eye to glean some information about what was going on, but he wasn't looking at you. 

“Must I say it twice?” Amycus said coolly, and you shook your head.

You glanced back at Draco one more time, then hurried out of the classroom. 

It was a beautiful afternoon. The sun was lowering in the sky. The air was a perfect temperature in October - cold enough that you weren’t melting in your robes, but not cold enough that you felt the need to wear gloves every time you left your room. 

“Magic is might,” you whispered to the wall - you had had the same password all term - and the passage appeared. 

You slipped through the common room quickly, not bothering to look up and see who was sitting inside. Seeing your friends together without you was just a recipe for disaster. You made a beeline for Draco’s room and sat down at his desk. 

You had gotten good marks on your last Transfiguration essay, but McGonagall had handed it back to you with none of her usual scribbled notes in the margin. She hadn’t even said a word to you. The message was clear - she wanted nothing to do with you. 

You sighed, pulling out a blank piece of parchment. Slughorn had assigned an essay about comparing different laws of antidotes, which had to be the most tedious part of Potions. But you resolved yourself to work hard on it. You owed your best work to Slughorn - he was the only professor in the castle still treating you like an ordinary student. 

You wrote a couple of paragraphs, then resolved to finish the rest tomorrow. The sun had gone down. You wondered where Draco was and what Amycus was having them do. 

_“Incendio,”_ you murmured at the fire, and it sparked and lit. 

You went to lie down in his bed, and the flames warmed you up. Lying in the heat of his blankets made you tired, and you let yourself drift off to sleep. 

You were awoken by the sound of Draco’s door banging on its hinges. 

You stirred, blinking a couple of times to clear the sleep from your eyes. Your brain was still moving slowly, drowsy. Draco was standing by the fireplace, staring down at it. He turned to you with the embers reflected in his eyes.

“You awake?” He asked, and you nodded, already sinking back into the mattress. 

You just wanted him to get into bed and put his arms around you, warm you up a little bit more. You always fell asleep quickly when you were against him - it was easier. 

You shut your eyes and felt the mattress sink slightly beside you. You turned slightly, facing towards where you could feel his body. You reached your hand out towards him. 

He grabbed it and pulled it to him aggressively. You felt his weight shift on top of you. 

You opened your eyes quickly, fighting drowsiness. The embers of the dying fire reflected in his eyes - which was fitting, because they were burning with lust and something else that you couldn’t put your finger on. 

Before you could even make sense of what was happening, his hands were underneath your shirt, smoothing over your back and pulling it over your head. You blinked, trying to force your brain to catch up with his hands. 

When you opened your eyes, his shirt was off, too, and his hands were pulling at your pajama bottoms. 

“Draco, what -”

He cut you off, pushing his lips insistently onto yours. You exhaled in surprise, turning your head to the side so that he had to pull back. 

“What happened?” You tried again.

He pulled his pants off, then his hands were back on you. He moved them slowly, smoothly, tracking up your side, pressing into your skin. Your arms lay flat against the mattress.

“Tell me what happened.”

Draco exhaled, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck and pulling you up to him. He held you in place so that you couldn’t move away again, and you brought your hands up to his chest, pushing against him. He broke apart from you.

“Shut the fuck up.”

He kissed you again, not bothering to ask for permission before his tongue was in your mouth. He brought his hand down to your clit, rubbing fast and hard against it. Your breath hitched against his lips. 

He pushed a finger into you, then two, thrusting aggressively. You whimpered into his mouth. Part of your brain was still hazy from having just been asleep, part of you was angry and confused, and now part of you was caught up in him. 

“I can’t -” you started, but he cut you off. 

By putting his hand over your mouth. His rings were cold on your face. Your eyes widened.

“Don’t speak,” he growled, curling his fingers inside you to hit just the right spot. You closed your eyes, moaning against his palm, and he kept going, his thumb flicking and pressing against your clit just how you liked it. 

He leaned down to your ear, whispering - “that’s it.”

Then he nipped at your earlobe, leaning down into your neck, sucking against your heartbeat. You felt yourself clench around his fingers, your legs shaking slightly as he brought you quickly towards climax in a way only he knew how to do. 

You moaned against his palm again, and he stopped sucking your neck, licking over the marks he had left. 

_“Fuck,”_ he said against your skin, “I want to hear you.”

He curved his fingers just right, and your eyes fluttered closed again. You moaned loudly, trying to convince him to take his hand away. 

He did. “Not a fucking word, understand? Just -” you moaned again - “that.”

He worked his fingers inside you and his thumb on your clit at the same time, matching their rhythm and speeding it up so fast that you couldn’t have spoken even if you wanted to. You arched your head back onto his pillow, your body shuddering and jolting, pushing towards him. 

It washed over you like a wave. A crack of electricity ran through your body, and you cried out, your hands scrambling for purchase on his skin - grabbing onto his shoulders, his arm, his back. 

You were still breathing heavily, nowhere close to coming down, when you felt him hard against your entrance. You opened your eyes, trying to catch his, your legs still shaking. 

He slammed into you. 

You cried out - it was more like a scream, really - your eyes wide open in shock, your hands digging even further into his skin than they had already. It was simultaneous pleasure and pain. Your whole body was shaking now - you couldn’t move right.

You grabbed at one of his wrists with your hand, digging your nails into his skin. You weren’t sure whether you were trying to anchor yourself or just make him feel a fraction of the pain that you were. 

His pace somehow got faster, pounding into you, the headboard crashing into the wall behind you with each stroke. Tears were falling freely from your eyes, curses and moans from your mouth. 

It didn’t help that his lips were all over your body - your breasts, your neck, the skin right under your ears.

“I fucking hate you sometimes,” he snarled into your ear. You dug further into his wrist, turning to try to capture his gaze. “I hate what you do to me.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but choked out a moan instead as he bit down hard on your neck. You tasted the salt of your tears on your tongue. He leaned up, attaching his lips to yours, and you knew that he could, too. 

You brought your hands to the side of his face, holding him steadily to you, then moved them to the back of his head, trying to drag him back into your neck, but he shoved you off and pulled back. 

His eyes cut into your face, then fell to your chest, which was dotted with dark red marks from his mouth. Then they returned to your face again. You could tell that he was getting close by how he sped up, thrusting into you with renewed force. The headboard continued banging into the wall. 

_“I can’t stand it,”_ he breathed into the air, then he was coming, buried deep inside of you. The feeling made you squirm. He pulled out of you, brushing your clit, and you whimpered, begging with your eyes for him to let you let go. 

He was quick, his fingers working your clit - pointer finger and middle finger moving together. His cold rings touched your skin. You grabbed his wrist again as you came for the second time, absentmindedly noticing that you were holding the Dark Mark. 

Your body jerked wildly, your toes curling - your whole body curling, trying at once to escape the feeling and stay in it forever. 

You heard yourself moaning. Or crying. Both.

He rolled off you. 

You were well-acquainted with the boys’ dorm bathroom - you never walked all the way upstairs to the girls’ in the middle of the night. But it felt extra cold tonight. 

You stood over the sink, staring at yourself in the mirror. The low light of the moon made you look paler. _I fucking hate you sometimes._

You heard a noise from the doorway and wheeled around. Your stomach dropped - as if this night couldn’t get any worse. 

Sebastian stood there, gaping. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

You shook your head, not wanting to tell him that it was because you had been in Draco’s room. A strange expression passed over his face, and you tuned back into your body to find that you were crying. 

You wiped your hand over your face quickly, not wanting to show any weakness.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“You’re crying,” Sebastian observed stupidly. 

You shook your head again, willing him to forget it. 

“Simon would say that’s karma,” Sebastian continued. You looked up to find that he was a couple of steps closer to you. 

“Would you?” You asked.

He didn’t answer, but walked close enough to you to touch. You wiped your cheeks again, trying to get rid of any tear residue. 

And suddenly, his arms were around you. You hugged him back immediately, ducking your head into his chest. He smelled the same way he always had - it was unexplainable, really—just him. 

But he broke apart from you, and his face just looked sort of confused and sad. 

“That was because I never got to say goodbye to you - the person you were,” he explained.

“I’m still me,” you implored, “Sebastian, I’m still me.”

He shook his head. “Tracey and Simon won’t talk to you anymore. And Sadie - she didn’t come back. We don’t know what happened to her - not even Simon does.”

“God,” you breathed, “that’s horrible.”

“Yeah. Horrible. And you’re part of the reason it happened. You’re on their side.”

“No, I’m not. I swear. I’m not. I followed Draco for _him,_ not because I wanted to choose sides - not because I believe what his family thinks.”

Sebastian looked pained. “ _He_ believes what his family thinks.”

“I thought you said you trusted me.”

“How long did you know?” He asked.

“Know what?”

He gestured at your left arm. “How long did you know he was marked?”

You didn’t even think about lying - not to Sebastian. You took a breath. 

“Since last October.”

There was a spot of silence. You searched his eyes, begging for forgiveness, begging for anything. 

“You probably shouldn’t try to talk to me again,” he said finally, “it’ll make it easier for both of us.”

Then he left, not bothering to do whatever he had come to the bathroom for. You turned back, taking in your appearance in the mirror again. Your eyes were rimmed red from crying; your hair was messy from being dragged across Draco’s mattress. If _Sebastian_ wouldn’t forgive you - wouldn’t even try - there was no hope left with any of your other friends. 

You walked back to Draco’s room quickly, bowing your head, not wanting to see anyone else. The fire was dead when you slipped back in. It was cold. 

You got under the blankets, moving closer to his body, willing him to turn over and wrap his arms around you. 

He did turn around when you touched his back - but it was to push you away. He turned back over, his back facing you. You knew it wasn't worth it to try again. 

You couldn’t sleep here. You got up, moving through the room towards the door, knocking your hip into his desk. He didn’t try to stop you. 

You wandered up onto the third floor, then the fourth floor, walking over to the window where you had stood at the end of last year and stared over the grounds, knowing that Draco’s plan was about to come to fruition and knowing there was nothing you could do about it. 

You sunk down, leaning back against the stone. You had never felt so lonely in all your life. 

You wondered briefly what Amycus had made Draco and the rest of them do after you left, but your thoughts quickie turned elsewhere. _I fucking hate you sometimes._

_I fucking hate you sometimes. I hate what you do to me._

Your brain repeated it like a mantra to you, so tortuous that it became mundane. And then the sleep that had threatened you earlier took over, and you slumped against the stone wall. 

“I said, get up.” 

You opened your eyes to stare down at the ground. It was light outside now - morning. Your back hurt. Your neck hurt. Your pajama bottoms looked ridiculous against the cold stone floor. You were barefoot. 

He was wearing shoes. You looked up at him, wondering how he had known where to find you. 

“I’ve been wandering around the castle looking for you for two fucking hours,” Draco answered your question. “Get up.” 

You got up. _I fucking hate you sometimes._ Anger curled tight in your chest. 

“Good morning to you, too. Glad I didn’t freeze?”

“It would make life a hell of a lot easier for me if you did.”

He turned to leave, but you grabbed his arm. He turned around, raising his eyebrows at you. 

“What happened last night?”

“We fucked. Then you fucked off to wander about the fourth floor. Do you have a memory problem now?”

You kept his arm in your grip, afraid that if you dropped it, he would somehow get away from you. 

“What happened before that. In Dark Arts. What did Amycus do after I left?”

“That has nothing to do with you.”

You scoffed. “It very well does if it’s going to make you act like this.”

“I’ve always acted like this.”  
“You haven’t. Are you angry with me?”

He jerked his arm out of your grip, and you took a step forward, willing him to keep talking to you. 

“I’m usually angry with you.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “No, you aren’t. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? The Dark Lord is living at my fucking house, and you are too. I can’t keep a single promise. Yeah, I’m fucking angry.”

“At me?”

He looked at the ceiling, growled in frustration, then turned back to you. There was a split second where you weren’t sure what was about to happen. Then he grabbed your arm and pulled you to him, kissing you deeply. 

You broke apart, and he threw your arm down like it was poisonous, taking a step back from you. 

“Yeah, angry at you.”

“Why?”

“Because it would make things a lot fucking easier if I didn’t have anything to lose.”

You changed into your robes before you went to Transfiguration. You were still wearing your makeup from last night, your hair was messy, and red rims around your eyes screamed that you had been crying as you made your way through the hall. 

Draco, on the other hand, looked like his regular picture of regal. 

“We’ll continue to work on the Animal-Conjuring Charm today,” McGonagall said. “I expect you to be on small insects at this point. Those particularly advanced in the subject may attempt a bird. Nobody should attempt anything bigger than a small sparrow.”

You tried to concentrate on the surface in front of you, but you couldn’t. You kept feeling tears lick at your eyes as your thoughts drifted back and forth from tragedy to tragedy. 

The fact that Sebastian had completely dismissed you, told you that Simon and Tracey would never talk to you again - and asked you not to try to talk to him, either. 

The fact that Sadie was apparently missing off the face of the earth - if Simon hadn’t heard from her, things were really bad. You could only hope that she was hiding somewhere with her parents, safe. 

And, lastly, the fact that Draco, who you had counted as the one person who you could truly rely on in the whole castle, was more volatile than you had seen him even at the height of his depression in sixth year. 

It was like he simultaneously wanted you as close as possible and as far away as possible from him. You got it, sort of - he didn’t want to put you in danger; he was afraid of you getting hurt. 

But he was hurting you himself, pushing you away in situations when he didn’t need to push. It was the same argument that you had been having for over a year now, rearing its head in slightly different forms. 

It was getting a little bit tiring, having to tell him over and over again that you had chosen this, that everything that had gone wrong in your life wasn't his fault. 

You thought about what Sebastian had said in the bathroom about Draco - _he believes what his family thinks._ You knew that wasn't true, not really. He didn’t side with Voldemort; he didn’t believe that Muggles were inferior life forms. If anything, Muggle Studies classes this year had convinced him of how repulsive his own beliefs had once sounded to other people. 

At the end of the day, you knew that he would continue to side with Voldemort regardless. He would do whatever he needed to do to keep his family safe. And you knew that, someday, you would reach a point where that could no longer be reconciled. 

But for now, when he was the only person you had, you couldn’t really think of that. 

So it was lucky that Lavender Brown startled you out of your thoughts with a little scream. You turned around to see that she had successfully conjured a butterfly. It was quite beautiful, really, a deep blue color, and you watched as it flitted around the classroom. A mind of its own. 

“Excellent work, Lavender,” McGonagall beamed. 

The butterfly flew over near Parvati, who tried and failed to get it to land on her arm. It kept flying around the room, sometimes getting near people but never touching down. 

Until it got to you and Draco. The whole room had been watching the butterfly, cooing and exclaiming as it made its way around, but everyone fell silent now. 

The butterfly ducked down closer to your desk. You willed it to go away. You couldn’t have everybody staring at you, not today, not when you were so obviously disheveled. 

But it didn’t. It touched down on your desk, right between you and Draco’s hands. You pulled your hand away quickly, putting in your lap. 

“Get it away from them,” someone murmured. 

Horrifyingly, though, the butterfly followed your hand, flying towards you. It fluttered in the air between you and Draco for a second, then landed on your shoulder. 

“It must be fucking demented,” you heard Tracey hiss from a couple of rows behind you.

You shook your shoulder slightly, trying to get it off you, but it held fast. 

Then you heard Draco murmur a spell - _Avis Prodeo._ You snapped your head to him. That spell was supposed to be used to conjure larger birds, and McGonagall had said not to try anything bigger than a swallow. 

But there it was. You recognized the bird immediately - a blue jay. One had built a nest in your backyard as a child. You gaped, and noticed that the scandalized whispers of the rest of your class had stopped.

The blue jay shook its head slightly, then cawed loudly at your shoulder. The butterfly flew away, and you exhaled in relief. 

But all the eyes in the classroom were still on you. 

“Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall started, “I thought I was very specific with my instruction not to try larger birds.”

Draco looked up, keeping his face blank. 

“Yeah, well, I did it, didn’t I?”

McGonagall stared at him for a second, then looked back at the class. “I don’t know why you’ve all stopped working,” she said shrilly, and everyone turned back to their desks and started trying the spell again. 

If it were Lavender Brown who had conjured a blue jay, she’d have gotten twenty points for Gryffindor. Hell, if it had been Tracey, she would have gotten twenty for Slytherin. 

Not that you cared about the fucking house cup. It was just further proof that your professors would rather not have you in class. 

Lunch was never a very cheery affair, but it was worse today. You bit into your sandwich, determinedly ignoring the sounds of your friends’ conversation down the table. _Former_ friends’ conversation. Whatever. 

It had started out innocuous enough, but Simon and Tracey must have picked up the fact that you were eavesdropping, because the conversation quickly turned to you. 

“I would’ve thought any living thing coming within a foot of the two of them would have caught on fire,” Tracey said. 

Simon chuckled. “Well, it was Lavender who conjured it. She probably fucked it up somehow.”

You took another bite of your sandwich, determined to ignore them. 

“Did you see her face?” Tracey mused, “it looked like she’d been crying all night.”

“She probably had been,” Simon returned. 

You felt a little pang in your chest - and a bit of fear, too. Draco had been very specific that nobody could see you being weak. You felt him next to you, and you could tell by the way he had tensed that he was listening, too. 

_Ignore them,_ you reminded yourself. 

“Didn’t I tell you?” A third voice said, and it was all you could do not to snap your head around. 

You hated hearing Tracey and Simon talk about you, but it wasn't surprising. You had listened to them tear into people since second year, had joined in more often than not. It was just different now that they were talking about you.

But Sebastian - you never thought Sebastian would. Not with you.

Your heart started pounding in your ears as he kept talking. 

“I caught her crying in the boys’ bathroom last night. Looked a total fucking mess.”

Your food turned to bile in your throat, and you stood up before you could even process the situation. Sebastian had always been your best friend, the one you had always turned to when you needed someone. He couldn’t be talking about you like this. Not him. 

You felt Draco stand, too. He would probably try to keep you here, tell you to stay calm, make sure nobody thought you were weak. You geared up to refuse him, to insist on leaving. 

But when you met his eyes, you knew he wasn't about to ask you to sit back down. 

Instead, his hand grabbed your waist possessively, and his other hand wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you to him. 

He kissed you deeply, aggressively. As he let you go, he captured your bottom lip between his teeth and dragged it out, drawing out your kiss even further. 

When he let you go, he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you to his side. 

He looked down the table. “Next time you have a word to say about (Y/N) and me. Don’t.”

Sebastian glanced up quickly before returning his eyes to the table in front of him. Draco scoffed. “Yeah, Daley, I’m talking right at you. Git.”

Before you could say or do anything else, he dragged you out of the Great Hall. You wrenched out of his grip as soon as you got into the hallway. 

“Nice save,” you said. 

“What?” 

“I know you hate the prospect of me looking weak in front of other people. So nice fucking save.”

He shook his head slightly, looking a bit confused. “I wasn't trying to save anything. I was trying to shut them up. And kiss you.”

“I can’t figure you out anymore,” you said.

“Were you really crying in the bathroom last night?” He asked.

“Well, you didn’t want me in your fucking bed.” You glowered.

He didn’t say anything to that, so you kept talking. “Sometimes you’re angry and you don’t want to be near me and you tell me that you hate me. And sometimes you won’t let me go and you want to kiss me in front of the entire fucking school. What am I supposed to think?”

He looked a bit sheepish, and stared down at his shoes for a second. 

“I’m sorry,” he said after a while. 

Your heart lifted a little bit. Getting an apology out of him was still incredibly rare. 

“When you said you didn’t know how you were going to get through this year,” he continued, “I don’t either. And you’re all I have. So it scares me thinking about what would happen if you… if something happened to you.”

You nodded. “It’s worse if you push me away, Draco.”

He looked up, making eye contact with you again. 

“I know. Don’t be mad.”  
“I can’t be mad at you,” you said, “you’re all I have, too.”


	64. Crucio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! possible trigger in this one, i've put it in the end notes if you want to check and make sure. <3

Amycus had asked you to stay behind in Dark Arts again, along with Neville, Draco, Blaise, Pansy, Seamus, Crabbe, Goyle, Cho Chang, Luna Lovegood, and Ernie Macmillan from Hufflepuff.

As you cast your eyes around the room, you noticed that everyone’s expressions had changed. Neville, Seamus, Luna, and Ernie’s faces had all deadened. Crabbe and Goyle looked almost joyous. Pansy and Blaise were smiling contentedly. 

You turned back to Draco to see how he looked, but he was already walking towards the front of the classroom to speak to Amycus. 

They had another whispered conversation - just like last time - but this time, Amycus’s features hardened as Draco spoke. 

“Back to your seat, Mr. Malfoy,” Amycus said.

“Sir -” Draco started, but Amycus glared at him. 

Draco turned around and walked back towards your desk, refusing to meet your eyes. 

The doors to the classroom swung open, and Alecto walked in, a group of assorted Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws behind them. None of them could’ve been any older than their fourth year. 

All their eyes were wide, and they shied to the sides of the classroom. A couple of them winced. 

As Neville turned back towards the front of the class, you noticed a bright red mark on his cheek that definitely hadn’t been there last class. You stared at it for a second, wondering how he got it. Probably tripped down the stairs or something - he had always been clumsy. 

But, for some reason, it seemed a bit more sinister. Your eyes caught on a bruise near Luna’s eye. _What? Had the Gryffindors been fighting?_

Amycus and Alecto herded the younger students to the front of the class. One of them was crying. 

“These students will be serving detention today,” Amycus drawled, “and you’ll be getting some extra practice. Stand.”

You heard chairs scraping behind you. Draco reached his hand down to yours and pulled you to your feet. Amycus returned to the front of the classroom, standing in front of the group of students. He smiled - leered. 

“Some extra practice,” he repeated, “with the Unforgivable curses.”

Your heart stopped. You looked down at your feet, afraid to meet Draco’s eyes. _Had he known? Is this what happened last time?_

“All of you, line up in front of me.”

Draco walked forward, and you followed him. He dropped your hand as soon as you left your desk. Crabbe and Goyle practically ran to the front of the room, and Blaise and Pansy followed at a more leisurely pace. 

Nobody else moved. Amycus shook his head, smiling slightly. 

“Ah. But I trust you all remember what will happen if you refuse?”

Nobody spoke. Luna’s bruise, Neville’s cut - so they had refused before. You wanted to turn around and see their faces, assess the damage, but you caught yourself. You couldn’t associate yourself with them anymore, not if you wanted to remain safe under the Carrows’ watchful eyes. 

“Very well. You know, you aren’t doing the children any favors.” It was sickening how Amycus’s voice lingered lovingly on the word _children,_ like he relished the thought of watching you torture one another in the name of his master. 

“They’ll just be manacled if you don’t. Or have you not noticed the chains in the Great Hall?”

 _Chains?_ You hadn’t been to the Great Hall this morning - you had slept in. Why did Amycus mean - that he was going to chain the third years up where everyone else had dinner?

Still, nobody answered. 

“Very well. Alecto - take them.”

You didn’t turn back to see, but you heard footsteps and the dragging of chairs. A couple of curses. Alecto escorted everyone else out. Just the Slytherins left. 

You looked to Draco, trying to make out what was going through his head by reading his expression. Before you could think about it, you reached out towards him, brushing your hand against his. 

He tore it away from you. You turned away quickly to see Amycus watching you, his eyebrows raised. 

“Mr. Malfoy, why don’t you demonstrate the proper form for a Cruciatus curse?”

Draco stepped forward, aiming his wand at the boy standing in front of him. 

_“Crucio,”_ he said at once, no emotion in his voice. 

The boy immediately hit the ground, tears shooting out of his eyes. His face was screwed up as he screamed. Draco looked blank. You felt sick to your stomach - watching the pain tear through the boy’s body and knowing that it was _Draco_ who had caused it. 

“Very good,” Amycus said, and Draco stepped back, pulling his wand down. The boy kept crying on the floor. 

Amycus’s eyes moved down the line of you, and his face contorted into a smile. “Well, don’t hold back,” he said.

Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, and Blaise all raised their wands. _Crucio._ Screams echoed around the room. You felt frozen, slow. Blaise looked like Draco - completely blank, unreadable. Crabbe and Goyle were smiling like Amycus, predatory. Pansy’s eyes floated away from the girl she was torturing, and you thought you saw a bit of regret flickering in them. 

“Ms. (Y/L/N),” Amycus said from behind you. You jumped. He chuckled. “Raise your wand.”

Every particle in your body fought against it as you raised your wand, squaring off with the decidedly young, short boy standing in front of you. He was already crying. 

You found yourself thinking of your parents’ words to you - the last thing you had heard from them. _Your safety is more important than anything else. You have to be selfish now._

You could refuse. You could allow yourself to be carted off with the other houses, with the students who were so free to do the right thing. You could withstand whatever punishment they threw at you. Technically, you could. 

But you couldn’t, not really. Not when you were living at Malfoy Manor, not when Voldemort could call on you whenever he pleased. It would be suicide to ignore a Death Eater’s direct wishes. To go against the Carrows would not only sic Voldemort on you - no, when he wanted to hurt someone, he went to their core. He would find your parents, your friends. 

He might hurt Draco, too. 

So you raised your wand, pointing it right between the boy’s eyes. _Take a deep breath and say it._

The boy’s fat tears rolled down his cheek. _Say it._ You felt Draco’s presence to your right and wondered what he was thinking. _Say it._ The other students screamed, cried, called out as they were tortured. _Say it._

 _“Crucio,”_ you whispered, but you could hear the weakness in your voice as you said it. 

Nothing happened. You recalled what Voldemort had yelled at Draco as he forced him to torture Rowle - _you have to mean it._ How could you mean it? How could you look at this child and willingly raise your wand to inflict the worst pain in the world onto him?

“Harder. Do it,” Amycus growled from behind you. 

You took a breath and raised your wand again, trying to block out all thoughts of the boy in front of you and just focus on the fact that you had to do this. This was survival, plain and simple. Your hand trembled slightly.

Just as you were about to say it, Draco’s voice rang out. 

“Don’t,” he said simply. 

“Did I mishear?” Amycus asked from behind you. 

“Don’t make her,” Draco implored, his eyes never meeting yours. 

“Do it, (Y/L/N).” Amycus stated simply. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to concentrate on the boy in front of you. But Draco stepped between you and him, bringing his hand up to grab the other end of your wand. He still wasn't looking at you. 

“Just - I told you, I don’t want her doing it. Sir.”

Draco and Amycus stared at each other for a second. Amycus’s eyes narrowed. You could tell that they were having a silent conversation, a wordless negotiation. You wished you could tell what it was that they were saying. 

“Tomorrow night, then, Mr. Malfoy?” He asked.

Draco nodded. Then, before they could exchange any more words, he took your arm and dragged you out of the classroom and into the hallway. 

You didn’t talk on the way back to the dungeons, or in the common room, or in the boys’ hallway, or in his room. 

He lay down in bed, facing away from you. You sat down next to him.

“Draco,” you whispered, “what did Amycus mean, _tomorrow night?”_

He didn’t answer. You decided not to press and instead lay down next to him. You threw your arm over his body, pushing yourself into his back, tucking your nose into the back of his neck. It was something that he would never admit, but you knew it comforted him to have you hold him like this. 

So you were surprised when he shoved you off him. Not too gently. 

“Leave me alone,” he said. 

You blinked, lying down on your side of the bed. He turned towards you slightly. 

“No - I don't want you in my bed. Go to yours.”

You thought of arguing for a second, searching for a little bit of anger inside you to feed on. But there wasn't any. You just felt sort of sad. You hadn’t slept in your room for over a week, and it felt strange. You were cold, even underneath your covers. 

After that, things changed. October melted into November, and the air started biting at your cheeks and your hands as you walked to class. You used to walk hand-in-hand with Draco - or at least next to him. Now, he walked a couple of paces in front of you. 

You had cried about it a couple of times, but doing so had felt pathetic, so you forced yourself to stop. It wasn't like he had been the perfect boyfriend to you for the past couple months, anyway. Maybe you were better off. 

But you weren’t. He was the only person you had anymore. Even a shadow of him was better than nothing. 

Draco let you sleep in his room a couple of times, but even then, he didn’t touch you. You knew exactly what was going on - the same thing had happened at the end of fifth year and throughout sixth year. 

You knew him too well to think that he had suddenly started hating you. No. He was just pushing you away, always afraid of what would happen to you if you got too close to him. It was infuriating. You were _already_ close to him; you had already seen the worst of it. 

He wasn't helping you by avoiding you - he wasn't keeping you safe. He was just taking away the only thing you had left. 

You didn’t want to argue with him anymore, so instead you were trying your best to endure his cold demeanor and hope that he cracked soon. He would need you sooner or later. He had to. 

You went back to the common room after dinner. Draco didn’t show up to the Great Hall. True to Amycus’s words, students who had rebelled against their rule had been chained to the wall. Nobody talked anymore while they ate. You felt a bit like crying every time you were in there. 

You walked into Draco’s room without thinking about it, shrugging off your robes and lying down in his bed. It struck you that he might get mad at you when he got back - he might make you leave. His vanilla smell surrounded you. His blankets were warmer than yours. You decided you would deal with his anger if you needed to - you just wanted to rest here for a while. 

You were woken up by his hands on your skin. For a second, you thought that he was trying to pull you out of his bed. But no - he was pulling your pants down. You fought your drowsiness off as you looked up at him. 

He didn’t meet your eyes. 

He didn’t bother pulling your shirt off, nor his. He tugged his trousers halfway down his thighs. You blinked slowly, confused. Were you dreaming?

But then he was inside you. You gasped, waking up at once. Usually, he prepared you for the size of him with his fingers or his mouth. It hurt a bit - and not in the way that it sometimes did, not in the right way. 

You tried looking at him again, but his eyes were downcast. His hands, which usually wandered across your skin and pulled you closer into him, were resting against the mattress, holding him up. 

He kissed you, but you never saw his eyes - he kept them shut. You kissed him back instinctively, holding on to the little bit of intimacy. Your hand was on his face, pulling him closer to you, but you weren’t sure whether you actually meant to or if it was muscle memory.

He pumped into you. The pleasure was there, but you weren’t focusing on it. Just trying to catch his eyes. He wouldn’t let you. Your hands straying to his shoulders, holding him, shaking him a bit so that he would look up at you. But he didn’t. 

He finished. Pulled out of you. Rolled over. 

You lay there, your underwear and your pants bunching around your thighs. You felt a strange emotion lick at your stomach, spread into your chest. 

You reached out for him, not sure what else to do. You felt sort of like crying. 

“You should leave,” he said.

You sat up in bed, pulling up your pants. He turned around slightly, and you took in his face for the first time tonight. The first time in a couple of days, actually. The bags under his eyes were more pronounced; his hair was messier. He looked a bit like he had at the beginning of sixth year when you had crashed into the boys’ bathroom and found him crying to Moaning Myrtle. 

“Get out of my bed.”

You moved slightly. And there it was - the anger that you had been searching for. It clawed its way out of your mouth, making you voice to him precisely what you thought.

“So I’m just a body to you now?”

He didn’t look at you, but you thought you caught a bit of surprise on the part of his face that you could see. “What?”

“You’re going to come in here and fuck me without looking at me, then roll over and tell me to leave? Is that it?” You got angrier as you went. “You think you can treat me like absolute shit for two fucking weeks, then come in here and use me however you want? I’m so done having this conversation with you - if you wanted to push me away again, then fine, you win! I can’t keep doing this. But it’s not helping me. It’s not helping me to lose you on top of everything else!”

He was silent. You felt like you might explode. 

“You aren’t protecting me, Draco, you’re just - you’re just making everything worse! You make everything worse! And you can’t even look at me!”

He kept staring at the far wall. You got out of his bed, throwing back his covers.

 _“You can’t look at me!”_ You shouted. 

And then he was across the bed, on his feet, staring you down. His eyes sliced into yours.

“Of course I’m not looking at you!” He roared, “I can’t _fucking stand it!”_

“Oh, but you can stand fucking me?!”

He shook his head, eyes flashing with rage. “You’re so fucking stupid,” he growled, “you’ve never understood anything, never.”

“Because you don’t bother to explain!”

“Because I made you this way! There’s your explanation! It’s my fault you came with me to the Manor - my fault you saw everything. My fault that all your friends hate you now.” 

He ran his hand through his hair. It was shaking as he returned it to his side. He squeezed it into a fist, digging it into his skin as he continued talking. 

“And I can tell how much you hate it - I can _tell_ how much you wish you were never with me in the first place!” You opened your mouth to speak, but he shook his head. “Don’t bother denying it; I don’t believe you. I don’t believe you really want this anymore. It’s just too late for you to get out of it, so you have to pretend to love me.”

“That’s not true,” you said, but you could hear the bitterness and anger in your tone. No part of you wanted to comfort him right now. 

“Of course it’s true. I’ve _always_ been biding my time with you. How could this work? I mean, you would have had to fucking torture a kid! I won’t always be there to stop things, (Y/N)! I can’t possibly be!”

“I don’t need you to be!” you shouted back.

“I could give a fuck about what _you_ need! It’s what I need - _I_ can’t let these things happen to you, I hate it, I got you into everything in the first place -”

“STOP TRYING TO PROTECT ME!” You screamed at him, all your repressed emotions from the last couple of weeks pouring into your words. You were having the same conversation again, the same conversation you must have had fifty thousand times, just disguised by different words. 

“I made my choice, Draco!” You continued, still yelling. “And I’m _through_ trying to convince you that I love you - I would’ve thought it was obvious by now! I don’t know what else to say to you. I’m always here for you, I’ve always been; I would make the same choices as many times as it took! _WHY_ can’t you get that through your _fucking head?!”_

He shook his head. For a second, you thought about yelling something else at him. But it all suddenly felt so pointless. 

“I’m going back to my room,” you said quietly, and turned to go.

“I thought you said you couldn’t bear this without me.”

“You’ve always been the one who needed me, not the other way around. I’ve been bearing things by myself for weeks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: non-con, nothing too graphic/extreme but consent is definitely dubious  
> if you'd like to skip it, stop reading at "you were woken up by his hands on your skin" and start again with "you should leave."


	65. The Landing

You sat in the train compartment, staring down at the _Daily Prophet._ The paper was controlled by the Ministry, which was controlled by Pius Thicknesse, who was controlled by Voldemort. The headline loudly proclaimed that ‘HARRY POTTER IS UNDESIRABLE NO.1.’ 

Harry’s face stared up at you, a bulb flashing in his eyes. He blinked. The papers had been calling for his immediate capture and arrest for months, but nobody had seen him, Hermione, or Ron. You hoped they were safe. 

You were sure they hated you. They must think, like everybody else in the entire school - the whole country, at this point - that you had followed Draco outside of the school because you believed the same things his family did. They probably thought that you were a Death Eater yourself by now.

But, strangely, they felt like your greatest hope. They were out there, doing _something,_ and perhaps that something would end up defeating Voldemort in the end. 

Or maybe they weren’t doing anything. Maybe they had just gone into hiding. But it was better not to think like that.

Draco shifted next to you. You hadn’t spoken for the entire train ride - you hadn’t properly spoken for a month. You had effectively broken up with him. You looked out the window, watching the fat snowflakes fall from the sky, swirling around the train and getting lost in the wind. 

He looked withered, like the life had been drained out of him as winter drained the warmth from the air. He was paler than ever, the bags under his eyes more pronounced - though you barely saw his eyes anymore, he was always looking down. His posture, usually stiff and regal, had been crushed. He walked around like he was carrying a weight on his shoulders.

You had never felt less excited for Christmas Holidays. You weren’t staying in the comfort of your dormitory or going home to your parents - no, you were going back to the Manor. There was no other choice - no matter how sickening the idea was, even if you would never be one yourself, you were at the Death Eaters’ mercy now. You belonged to Lord Voldemort.

The mood at King’s Cross was as bleak as it was the day you had left - perhaps even more miserable. You pulled your coat around your shoulders as you exited the train behind Draco. 

Parents lined the walls, heads bowed, whispering amongst themselves. 

Narcissa and Lucius didn’t bother hiding. They stood in the middle of the platform, their long black robes draped perfectly over their shoulders. They were, as always, the picture of sophistication. Once again, they were flanked by Dolohov and Macnair. Both Death Eaters had their sleeves rolled up to expose the Dark Mark. 

Draco held out his arm to you as you approached them. You knew it wasn't meant to be comforting - it was just for appearances. You brushed by him, not taking it. Lucius nodded at Draco as you approached, and Narcissa pulled him in for a quick hug. 

You stood by, keeping your head up and your shoulders back. Your hair spilled over your shoulders, your coat perfectly in place. You kept your eyes on Draco, not wanting to see the looks that everyone else was inevitably throwing you. 

You made your way through the platform in your regular formation - Lucius and Narcissa walked through first, parting the crowd, followed by you and Draco, followed by the two Death Eaters. It was impossible to ignore everyone’s faces as you went. 

People looked at you with slanted eyes, stepped back in fear. They tried to avert their eyes, but they couldn’t help themselves from staring at the marks on Dolohov and Macnair’s arms, the way Narcissa and Lucius’s platinum hair stood out against their dark robes.

You were a study in the dark arts, the regal power of the Malfoys and the Blacks joined with the chilling strength of Lord Voldemort.

You side-alonged back to the Manor with Draco, not sure if you could picture the gates in enough detail to get there without splinching.

As soon as the Manor came into focus, Lucius seemed to deflate. The arrogance dropped out of his shoulders, and his carefully painted expression melted into a sort of weariness. He didn’t say anything, just held out his wand to open the gates and marched down the path, head bowed, leaving only his footprints in the snow behind.

You dropped Draco’s arm as soon as you caught your breath. He paused for a second, then turned to follow his father. 

You pulled your coat tighter around your shoulders as you walked through the gates. Two cracks sounded from the end of the pathway - Macnair and Dolohov apparating away. You could hear Narcissa’s light footprints in the snow behind you.

The entrance hall of the Manor was already abandoned by the time you got inside. You heard someone’s footsteps on the stairs - probably Draco’s. You pointed your wand at your feet, drying off the snow. You would’ve taken your coat off, but it wasn't much warmer inside than it had been outside. 

The high ceilings of the room taunted you, the dark wooden floor shining mockingly. Everywhere you went, you were alone.

You turned to leave the room, but the door that led to the twin stairwells swung shut before you could. You turned back around to see Narcissa lowering her wand. 

“I need to speak to you,” she said. 

You thought of the last time she had needed to speak to you - she had outrightly told you she disapproved of you, then somehow knew about the things that had happened with your necklace last year. Not the most uplifting conversation.

You nodded at her, rearranging your face so that your expression couldn’t betray any emotion. Perhaps you had learned something from being here after all. 

“What have you done to him?” She asked.

You blinked, surprised. Her voice was more emotional than usual, edged with a sort of worry.

“What?”

“What have you done to Draco?” Narcissa repeated, twisting her wand in her hands.

“I haven’t done anything,” you breathed. “I don’t understand -”

She exhaled shakily. “I can tell when he’s… upset. I can see it. He doesn’t look the same as when he left - he looks different. Worse.”

“That has nothing to do with me.”

She cocked her head at you, taking you in. “So you see it too.”

“I -”

“You do. I’ll ask you again - what have you done to him?”

“I haven’t done anything to him.”

She glared at you, then raised her wand with a purpose. You flinched, thinking for a moment that she was going to hex you. She raised her eyebrows as she waved her wand and the door to the stairway flew open. Oh. You exhaled. 

“Whatever it is,” she said in a low voice, “fix it.”

She brushed by you and walked into the hallway, past the stairways, and entered some room beyond that you had never seen. You stood in place for a second, then exited the room yourself, walking up the stairs towards the landing. 

You didn’t bother trying to go into Draco’s room. You were clearly unwelcome in there, and you wouldn’t have wanted to go even if you were. The room at the end of the hall, with its white bed and emerald chair and chestnut walls, was all too familiar. 

There were still clothes for you in the dark dresser. You gazed out the narrow windows, watching the snow fall onto the gardens, decorating the hedges and smothering the grass. 

You thought back on what Narcissa had said. What have you done to him? You had assumed his change in demeanor was because the Christmas Holidays were growing closer and he knew he would have to go home. Or because of whatever was going on with Amycus. 

But he hadn’t looked like that over the summer, and Voldemort had been here then. 

Was it possible that Narcissa was right? That you leaving him had done this to him? You shook your head at the thought. He had been the one pushing you away - he had sent you back up to your room practically every time you tried to be with him for a month. 

Nobody came and got you for dinner, and no house-elf brought you any food, so you didn’t eat. The sun went down, and the moon came up. You pulled the chair up to your window, watching the silver glow of the moonlight reflecting on the snow. 

You stood up, knowing your brain was working too much to be able to sleep. Your door was open a little bit, and a stripe of golden light from the hallway cast across your floor.

You went to close the door, but you stepped out onto the landing instead. The air was less stuffy out here. You stared up at the chandelier, its little glass beads dripping light all over the hallway and the room below. 

You walked over to the banister, leaning over it. There was a bookshelf in the room downstairs where the stairways came from. Has it always been there? You squinted, trying to make out the titles of the books. 

One of the sleeves of your nightgown fell off your shoulder, and you shifted to your right as you pulled it back up. 

When you looked up, he was there—leaning against the wall, looking at once disheveled and beautiful. So beautiful. Your stomach did a little flip at the sight of him - sharp cheekbones, sharper jaw, platinum blond hair curling slightly as it fell over his forehead.

Draco walked up to you, putting his hand on the railing next to you. You pulled away. He grabbed your arm. It was the first time he had really touched you in a month. 

You felt that familiar pull in your stomach, that ever-present need for him. But you pushed it down. You couldn’t allow yourself to just forgive him, knowing that you would end up slipping into the same patterns. You had already made that mistake countless times. 

You tried to pull your arm out of his grasp, but he held fast and took a step towards you. 

“No. I can’t be alone here again,” he breathed. 

You bristled. So you weren’t allowed to leave him, but he was allowed to push you away whenever he wanted? How many times this year alone had he refused you comfort when you had needed it? How many times had he made you leave his room when all you wanted was to be near him? 

“You spent all of last month ignoring me,” you said. 

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “How did you figure I wanted you to fuck off when I spent months sleeping in your bed just hoping you would let me stay when you got back?”

“You said you could do it by yourself.”

“I _could_ do it by myself if the only alternative was you treating me like shit. That’s not what I _wanted.”_

“How am I supposed to know what you want?”

You scoffed. “I’ve always told you exactly what I wanted. _You’re_ the confusing one.”

“I want the same thing I’ve wanted for years,” he replied without missing a beat.

“What’s that.”  
“You.”

He looked at you for a second, then tugged you into his chest. His arms came up around you, and he rested his nose on your head, his lips soft on your forehead. You felt yourself soften a bit in his arms, but stopped yourself - you couldn’t keep falling back into old patterns. You couldn’t forgive him for saying something nice when you knew he would freeze you out all over again as soon as he got comfortable.

He leaned into your lips. You put your hands on his chest, gently pushing him away before he could kiss you. 

“I won’t go on like this, Draco, no matter how much I love you.”

“Like what?” His voice was soft.

“Like… never knowing what I’m going to get with you. Never knowing whether you’re angry or sad or happy with me.”

He kept his hand on your wrist. You pried that away, too. You had to make him understand, had to make sure he knew that this was different. He couldn’t touch you anymore, couldn’t find his way back into your good graces with softness and no apologies, not until he could tell you what you needed to hear.

“I’m always all of those things. Fucking hell, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but I don’t take it out on you, do I?”

He took a step back from you. “I don’t take shit out on you.”

“Yes, you do - either that or you push me away entirely.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Talk to me! Just talk to me. Tell me how you feel.”

“You get pissed off at me when I tell you how I feel,” he said, and his tone sounded almost childlike. 

“I get pissed off at you when you try to convince yourself that I don’t love you,” you returned, “Because that’s not true. I would never be angry at you for telling me if you were sad - or angry, or… anything. I wouldn’t.”

You suddenly felt very tired. 

“But you’ve never done that, Draco. You never have, and you probably never will. I used to think that you would, someday, but it’s been years. Who am I kidding anymore? I mean, the way you talk to me sometimes… the things you’ve done to me… other people wouldn’t let that go. And it gets to the point sometimes where I can’t explain why I do. Loving you isn’t enough.”

He was silent. 

“Prove me wrong,” you said, an unmistakable note of desperation in your voice, “You can prove me wrong right here. Just tell me how you feel.” 

He looked down, studying the floor. You gave him a couple of seconds, a couple of breaths. But it had always been a lost cause. You turned heel and walked back to your empty prison of a room, the sleeve of your nightgown slipping off your shoulder again. 

The moon was high in the sky, reflecting off the snow to shine its silvery light through your window. You grabbed your wand from the dresser, waving it so that the curtains closed. Darkness fell over the room again. 

You got into bed, forcing yourself to calm down by regulating your breathing. You closed your eyes, trying to think of anything relaxing, anything that would help you to sleep. There was nothing. You finally decided on picturing the dresser, going over every detail in your head, trying to bore yourself to sleep. 

It must have worked, because there was sunlight filtering through your curtains when you woke up. 

And hands on your back. 

You whirled around, sitting up in bed to see Draco standing over you. You shot away from him, moving to the other side of the bed and shaking your head. 

“No, I don’t want to speak to you,” you said.

He grimaced, eyes downcast. “It’s not about us.”

He looked back at you. Dark circles under his eyes. He thought you _wanted_ him to ignore you. Well, fine. Now you did. It would be easier that way. 

“You need to get dressed and come downstairs.”

“Just have a house-elf bring me breakfast. I don’t want to be around you.”

“It’s not breakfast. Just - come downstairs.”

He left your room. Your heart skipped a beat - was Voldemort here? He couldn’t be - the Manor seemed too peaceful.

You changed out of your nightgown and into a green dress. Your shoulders were cold, so you pulled on a sweater over it. Honestly - could whoever provided you your wardrobe invest in some clothes in colors other than black and green? You were tired of looking like you were taking the Minister of Magic out to dinner every time you left your room. 

Narcissa and Draco waited for you at the end of the stairs. Narcissa’s eyes skimmed over your outfit and met yours. She nodded curtly, then started walking. It was clear that you were supposed to follow her. 

Draco held out his arm for you. You knew you were supposed to take it, keep up appearances, but you couldn’t be bothered. You brushed past him, following his mother into the conjoining room. 

A giant fireplace stood against one wall. The other wall was made up entirely of windows. The sunlight spilled in, melting the morning frost from the glass. Draco stepped beside you. You turned your face slightly so that you couldn’t see him. 

“We need you two to confirm an identity,” Narcissa said quietly. 

You wondered what she meant by this - who would you and Draco know that the rest of the Death Eaters wouldn’t? But you didn’t get to wonder for very long. 

The door at the other end of the room opened, and Lucius walked in, followed by Rowle, who was dragging someone behind him. 

He pulled the figure into the sunlight, and you gasped under your breath. No way. 

But even wearing muted colors and with her hair tied back, Luna Lovegood had a look in her eyes that could never belong to anyone else. You remembered seeing her on the Hogwarts Express wearing those finger-shaped glasses that she always had on. Spectrespecs. Just yesterday.

You took an involuntary step forward. She met your eyes, always unafraid to stare people down. 

“Is this Luna Lovegood?” Narcissa asked quietly. 

You took another step forward, but Draco grabbed your arm and pulled you back. You were too surprised to pull away. He kept hold of your wrist as he spoke. 

“Yes. That’s her.”

You looked at Luna again, and she cocked her head. You had the strangest impression that she was figuring you out. 

“Get Pettigrew to take her to the cellar,” Lucius said to Rowle, and Narcissa turned, motioning for you and Draco to leave. 

Stunned, you let Draco drag you out of the room.

You found yourself desperately wondering what they had done with her Spectrespecs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only ten chapters left! i'm so excited for you all to see the ending but i'll be so sad when it's over :(


	66. Little Deaths

You really shouldn’t be wearing a dress as nice as this down to the cellar, but your current wardrobe seemingly had nothing else to offer. You carried a modestly full plate of food, leftovers from breakfast. 

You expected that Lucius thought bringing food to the prisoners was a punishment. Otherwise, there was no way he would’ve suggested it. He barely ever mentioned your name, preferring to pretend like you didn’t exist even when you were sitting across the table from him. 

So when he had called you out by name over dinner last night, you assumed it wouldn’t be to compliment your outfit. 

Pettigrew needed someone else to help him bring food down into the dungeons - he was scared to have his back to the prisoners, which was ludicrous, because the prisoners were an old man and a girl who had literally never hurt a fly. 

But if Lucius wanted to send you into the cellar to ridicule you, you would take it in stride. You had been thinking about Luna almost nonstop since she had arrived at the Manor. There was something in the way she had stared at you, like she was seeing something that the rest of her friends had missed. 

The only problem with the situation was Peter Pettigrew. He had an annoying habit of getting near you - every time he needed to stay something to you, he would stand so close to you that your clothes would brush. His breath was sickening. 

He put his hand on the small of your back as he led you down into the dungeons. It was all you could do not to vomit right there on the stairs. You flashed him a smile instead, knowing that you would need to charm him at some point. 

You set the tray in front of Luna, and she gave you that curious look again. 

Her hair was messier, her clothes less bright, but her face looked the same as it always had at school. Peaceful, almost transcendent. It was no wonder people used to call her Loony Lovegood - she seemed like she was experiencing reality on a different plane than everyone else. 

“Peter,” you said, turning to Pettigrew and fixing him with your most charming smile, “I was wondering whether you’d go find something in my room for me?”

Peter stepped towards you, his smell permeating the air. He smiled back at you, looking almost feral.

“What is it?”

“Oh,” you said, leaning one of your shoulders down so that your dress strap fell off it, exposing your collarbone. He didn’t even bother to disguise his gaze as it fell from your face to your chest. “It’s a ring…”

He talked to your chest. “It’s in your room?”

He was so simple-minded, honestly, so easily distracted - why on earth would you need a ring in the dungeons?

“Yeah. I think it’s in one of my drawers…” you trailed off. He looked back up at you, a grin taking over his face. “I can’t remember which one, though,” you pouted, “so you may have to look through all of them.”

“I’ll find it,” he said, his eyes once again dropping to your bare shoulder. He scuttled out of the room. 

You turned to Luna, tugging your sleeve back up. She was standing now, staring at you. 

“I don’t need a ring,” you rushed out, “I just wanted to talk to you.”

She nodded. “I figured you didn’t. You aren’t a very good actress,” she considered. “But you do seem to be very good at tricking people.”

You shook your head, stepping closer to her. “I’m so sorry,” you said. You reached for her hands, undoing the rope around her wrist.

She cocked her head, taking you in. “You’re a very curious person,” she said finally. 

“How do you mean?”

“I mean, you do seem like you’re sorry. And I’ve seen you care very much about your friends before, back in fifth year. And last year, too. I remember you being in DA meetings - you were very quiet, but you always made your friend laugh.”

You were surprised by the memories she was recalling - but the more you thought about it, the more it seemed like Luna could talk to anybody like this, remember little quirks and moments that she had seen of them. 

She continued speaking. “But you’re also here, in this house. You were there when they brought me in. And you’re with Draco.”

“I’m so sorry,” you said again, “how did they even bring you here?”

She shrugged. “They took me off the train. It was quite frightening in the moment, but I feel a bit better now that I’m here. I just hope my father doesn’t worry too much. He was expecting me home for Christmas, you see.”

“You must hate me,” you breathed.

“No. I just think you’re very curious. It’s obvious why you’re here.”

“It is?”

She nodded, shrugging. 

“Well, to anyone who saw you last year. Or perhaps just to me. My father says I notice things that other people don’t.”

“What do you mean, _saw me last year?”_

“Oh, on the night that Snape killed Dumbledore.” Her tone was casual, but somehow melancholy. “Everyone was in the entrance hall, watching the doors blow open. I remember thinking that Draco looked very sad. You ran out of one of the hallways, and you were standing in the doorway watching him leave. Everyone was yelling at you. It was all very dramatic.”

You furrowed your brows slightly, wondering what her point was. 

“Anyways, you started running toward him. You were wearing a dress - it was very pretty - and it kept blowing around in the wind. But when you got to him, it stopped. Everyone was still yelling at you from the castle, but I don’t think you heard. You were just listening to him.”

She paused, and you stared at her, still unsure where this was all going. It wasn't that you regretted the decision you had made that night - it was just that every person in your life save Draco had signed you off for it. 

Luna spoke again. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? You love him.”

Oh. 

“So it’s very hard to hate you, knowing that. You’re supposed to make sacrifices for people you love. I’ve read that before.”

“We’re fighting,” you said, not sure why you were confiding in Luna Lovegood, of all people. There was nobody else for you to talk to, and she didn’t outrightly hate you. You supposed that it was enough for the moment.

“Well, I don’t think he should stay mad at you for very long,” she said, “you’ve done quite a lot for him.”

You sighed. If only Draco’s brain worked that way. “You’d be surprised,” you said, noticing the bitterness in your tone, “He can be cruel and petty and… horrible.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Luna said easily. 

You felt a bit like crying. “Yeah. I suppose it wouldn’t.”

“Why do you like him?” She asked. Her tone carried no hint of malice, just her standard curiosity.

You paused for a second, staring at your feet. “He’s - well, he’s funny,” you started, aware of how stupid that sounded. When you thought of him, though, you always thought of that part of him that had annoyed you endlessly in third and fourth year - his casual wit.

“He’s funny,” you repeated, more sure this time, “and he’s really caring, actually, when he wants to be. I know he cares about me. Even though I don’t see it all the time. And he loves his family, especially his mother. He would do anything to protect them. He’s strong, and he’s confident, and he… he tries to keep me out of things, even when I hate him for it. I could talk to him for hours.”

You realized that your eyes were a little teary, and you blinked a couple of times, trying to dry them.

“It makes sense,” Luna said, “I remember your Patronus was a leopard. They’re very powerful animals, you know. Very strong. They don’t live in groups, but they have little families, and they never leave their families. They never give up on their pack.”

“I remember yours, too,” you said, “A hare.”

And before you knew what you were doing, you were wrapping your arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. She was a good hugger. It didn’t surprise you. She smelled a bit like sage, something natural and sweet. 

Just then, you heard a bang from behind you. You jumped back from Luna quickly, bringing your hands up to wipe the tears off your face as you turned. 

Peter Pettigrew stood there, his mouth hanging open.

“I couldn’t find the ring -” he started, and his eyes roved over you and Luna with a sort of hunger. “You - you were talking to the prisoners!”

Shit. You smiled at him, taking a step closer. “No, I wasn't. I was just watching her.”

“You took off her bindings,” he observed.

“Just so that she could eat,” you tried, but he shook his head. 

“No - no, I told you - I was very clear - to keep her bindings on. You - you disobeyed.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, stepping closer to him, hoping to distract him, “I must have forgotten. Forgive me?”

He stared at you lasciviously for a couple of seconds, his pupils dilating as you grew closer to him. But he snapped out of it, bringing up his metal hand to grab yours. There was only one person that could take precedence over you. 

“They were very clear to me what to do if I caught you breaking the rules. My master will want to hear about this, the Dark Lord, oh yes. He will want to know that you were talking to the prisoner.”

“Peter, please -” you started, but he turned, his metal hand clamped around your wrist with no prayers of shaking free. 

He dragged you up the stairs, muttering something to himself about pleasing the Dark Lord. You felt dread pool in your stomach as he opened the door leading back into the Manor. 

You walked into the living room to see that Bellatrix and Dolohov were already there, moving through. The door to the room beyond hung open, revealing a long, empty table.

“Pettigrew.” Dolohov spat Peter’s name as if it was poisonous. 

“I have a gift for the Dark Lord,” he said, sounding giddy at the prospects of handing you over. “I caught the blood-traitor with the prisoners, undoing their bindings, talking to them. The Dark Lord told me to call him if I -”

Bellatrix cut him off. “But you can’t call him, can you, Pettigrew. You aren’t marked. He mistrusts you.”

Peter hissed. “No, no, he doesn’t. He doesn’t - look what I have for him, look what I’ve brought him!”

Bellatrix looked up at you. You felt a chill travel down your spine. Peter could make any situation seem ridiculous, but Bellatrix’s cold eyes on yours reminded you exactly what it would mean if they brought you to Voldemort.

She walked up to you slowly, her lips spreading into a vicious, predatory grin. She grabbed your arm, her nails digging into your skin. Her Dark Mark flashed. 

“I - I caught her with Lovegood!” Peter stammered as Bellatrix pulled you away, “I should be the one to bring her to the Dark Lord!”

“The Dark Lord loathes you,” Bellatrix hissed.

“No! I - I am his most - most faithful servant!”

Dolohov pulled out his wand, pointing it at Peter, who cowered. 

“Off with you, you filthy rat,” he growled.

Peter didn’t think twice about it, the coward. He looked towards you and Bellatrix one more time, desperation on his face, then scurried away back towards the dungeons. 

Bellatrix tugged your arm painfully, circling you. 

“Well, well, well,” she drawled, her voice taking on an edge of excitement - anticipation. “Our little blood-traitor has _finally_ shown us her true colors, hmm?”

Dolohov chuckled. The door at the end of the room swung open, revealing more of the long table. Lucius Malfoy walked out of it. 

“The Dark Lord approaches,” he said, holding out his writhing mark to prove his point. “Where are the others?”

__________________________

You stood in the corner of the dark room, pressed against the wall. Someone had jinxed you into a Full-Body-Bind, so you couldn’t move even if you wanted to. 

Death Eaters lined the table. You recognized some of them - Dolohov, Snape, Bellatrix, Yaxley, Rowle, Macnair, Lucius, and Draco - but there were others that you had never seen before. Voldemort sat at the head of the table, his eyes scanning over everyone with heartless cruelty as if he was choosing which one of them to kill. You couldn’t put it past him. 

His snake, Nagini, wound around his chair. To his right sat Bellatrix, and to his left Snape. His most trusted servants. You wondered if there was ever a time where Lucius might have occupied that spot. Now, he and Draco sat at the center of the table. 

Draco and his father looked so much alike in the dark light - the same hair, same light eyes, same sharp features and downcast expression. Draco hadn’t looked towards you, and he had come into the room after you had been bound to the wall, so he had no idea you were here. 

Dolohov was speaking. 

“My Lord, we have reason to believe that Potter and Granger will be returning to Hogwarts after the Christmas Break. Weasley’s at home - sick with spattergroit, and hasn’t been improving. He’s not with them.

“And who are you getting your information from?” Snape drawled. 

“John Dawlish,” Dolohov said. 

Snape raised his eyebrows in clear disdain. “Dawlish and the Order have not been in contact for a matter of months. Furthermore, I highly doubt that Potter, as bullheaded as he may be, would be reckless enough to contact the Order with his plans. As for Weasley, there’s no question that he’s with the other two.”

Dolohov looked chastised, but Yaxley scoffed. “And how do you have so much intimate knowledge about Potter, Snape?”

“Yaxley,” Voldemort said in his raspy tone, and Yaxley fell silent at once, “do you doubt Lord Voldemort’s judgment? Do you doubt the judgment of the most accomplished Legilimens of all time? Severus has proven his loyalty to me in ways you couldn’t dream of.”

Nagini slithered up his chair and onto the table. Yaxley whitened. “No, my Lord.”

“Indeed,” Voldemort said, his eyes casting down the table, “Amycus, Alecto. How has your time at Hogwarts been so far?”

A couple of Death Eaters grinned. You hadn’t even noticed the Carrows, and you immediately felt a bit of fear slice through you as the image of Amycus kicking a dead raven across the floor of a classroom materialized in your mind. 

_“Enlightening,_ my Lord,” Amycus said. “We’ve taught the students… how to be punished.”

Voldemort grinned. “And you’ve been keeping an eye on Longbottom and the Weasley girl?”

“Yes, my Lord. Their faces don’t look quite the same as when they left for school.”

“Do not mar them too much, Alecto. Their blood is still pure.”

He stood, then, his ghastly hands gripping his wand. 

“And now,” he said, “for our last order of business.”

His hand floated through the air, gesturing towards you, and you felt the Full-Body-Bind relax. As the tension released from your body, you took an inadvertent step forward, stumbling. When you looked back up, every Death Eater’s eye was on you. You could feel yourself paling under his gaze. 

“Come,” he said, motioning for you to join him at the head of the table. You did.

You stood beside his chair, trying to ignore the massive snake curling around beside your feet. Voldemort circled you like a predator watching his prey, taking you in, surveying you. 

You looked up and made eye contact with Draco. His eyes were flashing wildly - he hadn’t noticed you before. He stared at you, his gaze pushing at you, imploring you to do something, but you weren’t sure what. 

“A blood-traitor!” Voldemort said, motioning at you with his wand. Jeers and snarls went up in the crowd. “Our little blood-traitor, and she’s been caught speaking to our prisoners… releasing their bindings…”

He smiled as the Death Eaters continued to deride you.

“Yes, yes,” he said, “I agree… she must be punished. But how?”

“Put her in the dungeons with them!” Someone yelled.

“Kill her, the filthy blood-traitor,” Yaxley said darkly, and you suddenly felt very cold. 

“Hold her off to get her parents - they’re the ones we really want,” Macnair sneered.

“No, we couldn’t do that,” Voldemort said, speaking as if he was chiding a child, “not when she’s so _precious_ to our Draco.”

Everyone’s gaze drew away from you and fell on Draco, who looked like he was trapped.

“Draco, why don’t you come here?” He phrased it as a question, but it was an order.

Draco complied, pulling out his chair and walking towards you with his head bowed. He looked like he was marching towards his death, his eyes never meeting yours - never coming anywhere near them. 

“I think a Cruciatus will do as her punishment,” Voldemort said, going to stand by Draco’s side. “And who better to do it than you?”

Draco looked up then, his face contorted in shock. Voldemort seemed to feed on it, his grin widening. He took a step back. 

“Go on, Draco. Pull out your wand.”

Draco stared at a space on the wall behind you for a couple of seconds. Then he set his shoulders, his hand rising, pointing his wand at you. You felt your heart racing, but you set your shoulders too, keeping your head high. 

You were under no illusion that he would refuse to do it. Nobody could deny the Dark Lord. He had to do it to survive, had to. There was no way he wouldn’t. 

He opened his mouth. You steeled yourself. 

But he never spoke. You didn’t feel any pain besides the nail you were digging into your palm. Murmurs went up around the table. Voldemort moved closer to Draco, hovering menacingly over his shoulder. He laughed.

“Do it, or I’ll do it myself,” Voldemort said coldly. It was as much a threat to Draco as it was to you. You knew that the intensity of the Cruciatus curse depended on the experience and the cruelty of its caster. And there was nobody with more experience torturing people, nobody more cruel than Voldemort.

Draco raised his wand again. It was shaking noticeably.

But again, you felt nothing. Your body was shaking in fearful anticipation of pain that you weren’t sure he could bring to you. 

He opened his mouth, but not to curse you. “My Lord,” he said quietly, then looked down, unsure how to finish his sentence. 

Voldemort’s face hardened, and he stepped from behind Draco to beside him. “I see,” he said, his voice now utterly devoid of humor, “Allow me.”

He raised his wand. You willed yourself to keep your eyes open, shoulders back, head high. You dug your fingernails deeper into your palm, trying to brace yourself for the pain. It was ridiculous. There was no way that your fingernails could distract you from being tortured by the darkest wizard in history. 

But, at the last second, he flicked his wand towards Draco instead. 

Draco hit the ground, a small scream drawing from his mouth. His body twitched, his eyes shutting, every muscle tensing and untensing. He screamed again, this time louder - he couldn’t control it. 

You didn’t remember moving towards him, but suddenly you were on the ground beside him, crying out in distress, your hands on his arm and his back. It was pointless. He probably couldn’t even feel your touch through the pain. 

You remembered what it was like seeing him on the ground of the boys’ bathroom last year after Harry had cursed him - what it had been like watching him bleed out, thinking he was going to die. This was somehow worse. He seemed like he was in even more pain than he had been then. 

But it stopped. Draco’s body untensed, his eyes opened, and he took a shuddering breath as he looked up at you. You moved closer to him, reaching out, but -

It was the worst pain you had ever felt in your life. Your hearing cut out, leaving just ringing in your ears and the distant sound of somebody screaming - you. Your vision went white, overexposed, blurring and flashing and knitting together. You tried to close your eyes, but you couldn’t find your eyelids, couldn’t communicate with any part of your body. 

It felt like you were being pulled apart limb from limb, cut open and gutted.

And suddenly, it stopped. The pain in your body subsided first, then your vision cut back in, and your hearing returned a second afterwards. You felt sore all over, and your face was wet from the tears still rushing down your cheeks.

Draco lay beside you, shaking, and you were shaking too, and Voldemort was laughing from above you. 

“Let us applaud for young love!” He called, and the Death Eaters jeered, mocking you. Draco pulled himself to his feet, and you tried to, too, but you stumbled, having to grab the side of the table. 

“Aren’t you going to help her, Draco? Oh, not the gentleman, is he?”

Laughter rang out across the table. You opened your eyes again, looking down it to see that people were still clapping, enjoying the spectacle. Lucius glared at you. But suddenly, they all fell silent. 

You looked up to Voldemort to see that he was holding up his hand. His face had hardened entirely into a cold rage. 

“Your information tonight has proven most… unsatisfactory,” he rasped. “Do not let it happen again. And… (Y/L/N)...”

He turned to you, and you tried your best to stand up straight. Tears kept roaming down your face, rimming your eyes red. You stumbled a bit as you let go of the table. 

“Let us hope that your loyalties reside within this room,” he said, “for your sake as well as Draco’s.”

And with that, he was gone. Apparated. The Malfoys must have lifted their ban for tonight. Not wanting to stick around, most of the other Death Eaters apparated away, too, leaving behind loud cracks that made your head ring. 

Only Snape, Bellatrix, and Lucius remained in the room with you and Draco. Not caring to disguise how weak you felt any longer, you leaned back onto the table. But you felt arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back to your feet. 

He smelled just like he always did. Perhaps you should pull away, but you weren’t sure you had the strength, neither physical nor emotional, to separate yourself from him. 

Lucius cleared his throat in disdain. “Draco, leave her. Be done with her. You heard how much harm she could cause our family.”

Despite having just been tortured, Draco’s voice was unwavering. “And do what with her? Let her wander around outside, knowing what she knows?”

“Do not speak that way to me -” Lucius started, but Snape cut him off. 

“He has a point, Lucius. We can hardly let her out of our grasp now.”

Bellatrix laughed. “Let him play, Lucius. We’ll do whatever we need to do with her in the end.”

“We’re leaving,” Draco said, and you leaned into him more as he led you out of the room, his arm around your waist the only thing keeping you upright. You weren’t sure how he had the strength to move when you could barely think straight. He walked you into the room with the stairways, then up the stairs. 

He rounded on you as soon as you got to the landing, leaning you against the wall. He had a look in his eyes that you weren’t sure you could explain as he searched your face, his eyes darting back and forth. Perhaps it was desperation.

“I thought I was going to die,” he breathed, and you nodded. 

“I did too,” you said, your voice quiet and weak, “it was the worst pain I’ve ever been in.”

He shook his head. “No. I thought I was going to die watching him do it to you.”

Your eyes widened. He looked away from you for a second, then shook his head sharply and looked back. He exhaled.

“You wanted to know how I feel,” he said, “That’s how I feel.” 

Either the pain was causing you to see things that weren’t there, or he was crying. He held onto you, his hands gentle, steady on your waist. 

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed, “ _So_ sorry.”

“For?” You pressed, needing to make sure he understood, that this wasn't just some mindless attempt to get back into your good graces.

“For everything. Pushing you away, and being horrible to you, and I know I didn’t… I swear you aren’t just a body to me, I can’t believe you thought that - but I get why you would. I do. Sometimes I just don’t know what I need, and I’m not sure how to tell you, and it seems like it’s easier if you aren’t there at all. But being without you has been... a fucking nightmare, honestly, and I know I made you feel like that too.”

He searched your eyes after he finished speaking, his pupils darting back and forth across your face. You did your best to keep a blank expression. 

“You don’t forgive me,” he whispered, and his voice sounded very small. He shook his head slowly. “That’s - that… that’s… okay.” His expression did not look anything close to _okay._ “It makes sense,” he continued, his shoulders suddenly heavy, “I never… you deserve anyone but me.”

You leaned into his chest, wrapping your arms around him, and smiled slightly at his faint noise of surprise. It was a real apology - not just the words _I’m sorry,_ but explanations. It wasn't just groveling, it was a real attempt to tell you how he felt. You ducked your head into his chest, and felt him exhale with relief as he rested his head atop yours. Back in place.

“I just want you,” you said.

And it was true. You would always want him, even when you were so angry you couldn’t think straight. Even after weeks of barely interacting with him, your mind hadn’t wandered. You hadn’t even considered being with anyone else. 

It would probably hurt you in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was one of my favorites to write so i hope you guys enjoyed <3!
> 
> also i stay making up facts about leopards just pretend i'm right


	67. Distraction

The train pulled out of the station, and you gripped Draco’s hand in yours. You hadn’t been able to say goodbye to Luna before you left, so you could only hope that the Malfoys would continue to treat her well. _They can’t hurt her,_ you reminded yourself. They wouldn’t harm a pureblood - not too badly, at least. 

The sun was out in bounds today, melting the snow into little rivulets on the mirror. You leaned into Draco’s side. At least you had him back now. You had slept in his room the last three days of break. 

But the train was never a source of joy. It reminded you too much of all the times you had squeezed into a compartment with Sadie, Simon, Tracey, and Sebastian, eating chocolate frogs and telling each other stories. 

You heard the sound of your compartment’s door locking, and you looked up to see that Draco’s wand was raised. He flicked it down, and the curtains dropped, blocking your view of the corridor. And the corridor’s view of you. 

Draco turned back to you. 

“Are you thinking of them?”

You nodded. He leaned into you, resting his forehead against yours, brushing your nose with his. You could feel his soft exhale on your face. He brought his hand to your back.

“Don’t,” he said, and pushed his lips against yours. He was more aggressive than you imagined he would be, his hand coming up to the back of your neck. He leaned you back a bit, and you brought your hands up to his back to steady you. 

He broke apart from you. “Just -” he kissed you again. “Fucking -” he leaned down into your neck, sucking and biting, rubbing his thumb over the marks he had made. “Don’t.”

Your shirt went first, then his. You pressed against him, but suddenly your thoughts turned to Luna, and you felt your stomach drop with guilt. You broke apart from him, shying away. 

“We shouldn’t -” you started, but he shook his head. 

His hands went to your bra clasp as he spoke. “We should. Just let me distract you, yeah?”

His hands were on your breasts then, squeezing, and he leaned his head down, pushing you up against the window. It was cold on your back. You shivered as his tongue flicked over your nipple. 

“Draco, they’re torturing people, they’re…”

He looked up at you. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“That it’s wrong to do this knowing that everything happening... is partly our fault.”

He shook his head, leaning into your ear. “Maybe it _is_ wrong. I don’t fucking care. I can tell you need this.”

He licked your earlobe, then bit down, and you cried out a little bit. He chuckled against the skin on your neck, then looked back up to push his lips against yours. His tongue slid into your mouth, moving against yours, and you groaned, gripping his hair. 

He pulled you in his lap, and you felt him hard against you. You brought your hands down, undoing his zipper. You did need this. 

“And I need it too,” he said, pushing your back against the window again. He didn’t take off your skirt, just reached underneath it and pulled off your underwear. You rolled your hips into his lap, and you felt him straining against his trousers as you pulled them off. 

He leaned his head back, shutting his eyes as you pulled his boxers off. You loved seeing that look on his face, loved making him feel that way. An idea struck you. 

You got off his lap, ignoring his surprised expression. You stood over him for a second, cupping his jaw and pulling his lips into yours. 

Then you got down on your knees. 

Realization dawned on his face, and you swore you could see his pupils dilate as he watched you. 

You spit into your palm, keeping direct eye contact with him as you jerked him a couple of times. “Fuck,” he whispered, “fuck.”

He twisted a hand into the hair on the nape of your neck, pulling your face towards him. You would’ve made fun of him for being overeager, but, honestly, you couldn’t think of anything else besides making him come undone beneath you. 

You flicked at his tip with your tongue, a precursor, and swirled it around his head a couple of times. Teasing. He groaned, hand tightening in your hair, and tugged your forward, trying to get your mouth further, to make you take more of him. 

You obliged, taking him as deep as you could, until your mouth was utterly full of him. He squirmed beneath you, trying to keep himself still, his hands still trying to push your further down. 

“More, more, please,” he breathed, “fuck.”

You swirled your tongue around the length of him, not sure if you could take any more. He was heavy in your mouth. You sucked lightly, and he let out a broken sort of moan, his hips thrusting up into your mouth. 

His dick hit the back of your throat, and you choked on it, whining around him. 

“Yes, that, _please,_ ” he said, and you hummed, your mouth vibrating slightly around him. You sucked harder, resolving to get him as deep as you could. 

You pulled your thumb into your palm, tugging at it, letting him closer to the back of your throat. He was everywhere inside you, and the thought made you moan, which made him curse. You could feel his nails digging into the skin on the back of your neck.

You moved down a fraction more, then up a bit, then back down, and you heard a dull thunk as Draco let his head fall back on the side of the train. You sucked lightly, then harder, then as hard as you could. 

“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” he groaned from above you.

You hummed against him, swirling your tongue around as much as you could, sucking, sucking, letting him in just a little bit further. 

His hips thrust against you again, and he hit the back of your throat, but this time you didn’t choke. You looked up, making eye contact with him, and he stroked into you lightly—a question. You nodded.

You breathed in sharply as he fucked into your mouth, your eyes watering as you forced your throat to relax. His nails were definitely going to leave marks on your neck, and you were grabbing his waist so tightly that you wouldn’t be surprised if your fingers left bruises. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, _“shit.”_

You groaned, squirming against the floor, trying to ignore your own need and make this perfect for him. You stilled his hips, leaning over him again. You pulled off him, and he whined, keening at the loss. 

“Let me,” you said, and his eyes widened.

You took all of him into you, sucking hard, then pulled off, then went in again, flicking your tongue against him, keeping your lips tight. 

“So good,” he murmured.

You sucked harder, as hard as you could, moving your tongue around him, feeling his hips stutter below you. Knowing he was close, you let him hit into the back of your throat again, taking all of him, steadying his hips with your hands. 

“You’re maddening,” Draco said, staring at you with watery eyes. 

He came straight down your throat, and you closed your eyes as you swallowed, pulling off him slowly as you felt him soften inside your mouth. 

You took a couple of breaths, feeling him do the same above you. His hand loosened in your hair, no longer digging his nails into your neck. But he used it to pull you up to him all the same. 

You climbed back into his lap, your throat feeling grainy and raw. He gazed at you for a second, half-lids, then kissed you. It started gentle, but soon he was biting at your lips. You groaned, feeling your throat buzz. _Fuck._ There was no way you weren’t going to lose your voice after this. 

You felt his hand come down to your waist, then hook underneath the skirt you were still wearing. His eyes were still half-shut, drowsy. 

“You don’t have to -” you started, but he cut you off, raising his eyebrows to open his eyes. 

“What the fuck do I look like to you?” He growled.

His fingers were cold against your clit, rubbing perfect circles like always. You exhaled softly, grinding against his fingers, and ducked into his neck, biting at his collarbone. 

He pulled you off him gently by the nape of your neck, dragging your face away from his chest. You cocked your head, confused. His fingers got faster, and you shut your eyes, whimpering. 

“I want to see you,” he whispered, and stuck a finger inside you to emphasize his point. 

You mewled, rocking your hips down onto him, grinding against whatever part of his body you could find. “Yeah, that’s it,” he murmured, “I want to see how badly you want this.”

His fingers were merciless inside you, curving to hit just the right spot, and his thumb rubbed circles on your clit. You had been waiting so long, anticipating, that you knew you weren’t going to last as you rocked into him. 

“I -” you choked out, so close, so close.

“You _what,”_ Draco whispered, and pushed his finger into you one more time. 

It crashed over you like a wave, and your whole body shook. You tried to grab onto him, to pull yourself into his body, but he had his hand around your neck and used it to hold your face in front of him. Watching you. 

He kept his thumb on your clit, circling it as you came down, gradually letting you closer to his body. You buried your face in his neck as the waves turned to ripples that turned to still water. You exhaled raggedly into him, clutching at his chest. 

You felt properly happy for the first time in a while as you exited the train, clinging to Draco’s arm and leaning into him to combat the cold evening air. He had gotten some color back in his skin over Christmas, and his cheeks were pink with cold. You grinned at him. 

The grin was quickly wiped off your face when someone shoulder-checked you. You looked up to see Simon and Tracey walking away from you. You faltered, reality crashing back in on you, happiness fading quickly. 

Draco threw your arm off him; then, before you could do anything about it, he was going after Simon, grabbing his shoulder and dragging him around. 

“Fuck right off, Dedworth,” he growled, and Simon shook out his grasp, glaring. 

“Fuck off yourself,” Simon scoffed. 

Draco wheeled back and punched him in the face. There was a sickening crunch.

Tracey screamed as Simon doubled over, and so did you, rushing over to him and pulling him away. His eyes still flashed with anger, and he shook out his fist in the air. 

“Draco, what the fuck?” You demanded. Your throat buzzed with the effort, and your voice came out hoarse and weak. 

Simon stood up, holding his nose with his right hand. Blood dripped between his fingers. 

“What’d you do, suck him off on the train?” He sneered, clearly noticing the weak quality of your voice. You were thankful that the air was cold enough that nobody would see the extra flush in your cheeks.

“If you’re just gonna be a git to her, leave her well alone,” Draco spat at Simon. 

Simon took his hand away from his face. His nose looked crooked. You felt your stomach flip and turned around. Fuck. You knew Tracey knew how to fix a broken nose - Sadie had fixed hers second-year after her first (and last) pick-up Quidditch game. But you still couldn’t believe that Draco had actually done it. 

“What are you gonna do, Malfoy, tell your father?” Simon sneered.

Draco’s eyes clouded again, and you put your arm on his, trying to keep him calm enough not to take a second swing at Simon. 

“Or have you graduated from that?” Simon continued, “are you gonna pull up your sleeve and call the fucking Dark Lord?”

“Careful throwing that name around,” Draco said.

“Wouldn’t want to piss off your master,” Simon scoffed.

“It’s not him you should be worried about,” Draco took a step closer to Simon, “it’s me.”

You tightened your grip on his arm, pulling him back towards you. “It’s not worth it,” you said, embarrassed that your voice was still raw. 

“Oh, we’re not worth it to you anymore?” Tracey joined the conversation, her eyebrows raised. Her tone was absolutely biting. “That sounds about fucking right.”

You didn’t bother going up to your room once you got back to the dungeons. There was no way you would be sleeping without Draco for the foreseeable future. You unpacked the clothes you had taken with you - robes, dresses, a couple of skirts, and one sweater. 

“Are you angry?” He said, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around you. You leaned back into him.

“You punched Simon,” you murmured, and he chuckled against your ear. 

“I’d do it again,” he said, and you elbowed him. “I like your voice like that.”

You finished folding your sweater and turned around. His hands traveled easily to your back, holding you gently against him. 

“I’ll bring you dinner if you don’t want to see them,” he murmured, and you felt your heart lifting a little bit. In the past week alone, you felt like you had both recalibrated, like you were finally working together again. 

You shook your head. “No, I’ll go.”

It was the first night back, so nobody had detention yet, but the chains stood in the back of the hall all the same. You shuddered thinking about it, and Draco rubbed his thumb lightly against the back of your palm to calm you down as you sat down. 

You cast your eyes down the table, where Simon and Tracey were sitting together. Simon still had dried blood on his face, but his nose was no longer crooked - Tracey must have fixed it. You looked up and down the table for Sebastian, but he wasn't there. 

Your stomach sank immediately, mind reeling back to the Hogsmeade Platform. He hadn’t been there, either. And there was no way he would miss a meal. So what was wrong?

Tracey and Simon got up, and Tracey wiped her eyes quickly, grabbing Simon’s hand as they exited. You wheeled around to face Draco. 

“Did you see Sebastian on the platform in Hogsmeade?”

He looked confused. “No, why?”

Your stomach sank further. “He’s not here.”

You tried to calm yourself down as you lay in Draco’s bed and absentmindedly watched him change into his pajamas. There must be some logical explanation, some reason why Sebastian hadn’t shown up. Perhaps he’d stayed at the castle for Christmas - but no, you had seen him in Hogsmeade as you and Draco had boarded the train. 

Maybe he just slept through dinner - but he wasn't Simon - he had never slept through a meal before, especially not the first-night-of-term feasts. 

There had to be something, though. There was no way he could just be _gone._ You just couldn’t think of it. You knew there was no way you were going to be able to go to bed before you figured it out. 

And there was only one way to figure it out. 

You decided to ask Tracey about it - you figured she would be more willing to talk to you than Simon, if only marginally, seeing as your boyfriend hadn’t punched her in the face earlier in the evening. 

You knocked on her door, and it swung open. She was sitting at her desk, her wand raised absentmindedly. Kaya curled up on her bed. She lowered her wand, looking up towards you. 

As soon as her eyes met yours, she hardened, standing up and pointing her wand at you as rage took over her face. 

“Get the _fuck_ out of my room,” she said.

“I just -” you started, but she shook her head. 

“I don’t care what it is. Get out. Now.”

You took a shaky breath. “It’s about Sebastian,” you rushed out. She had already opened her mouth to cut you off again, but, upon hearing Sebastian’s name, she stopped. 

“You’ve heard from him?” She asked, her wand hand lowering slightly.

You shook your head. “You haven’t?” You asked, your voice weak. Tears preemptively pooled in your eyes at the prospect that Sebastian was in danger, gone. 

“No,” she growled, taking a step towards you and raising her wand again. “He’s stopped writing us, nobody’s heard from us, we have no fucking idea where he is or if he’s safe. And it’s your _fucking fault.”_

A tear dropped down your cheek, another one following quickly. You tried to pull it together, but the thought of Sebastian being in danger, being - no, you wouldn’t even consider that - was too much to bear. 

“Don’t pull that shit on me,” Tracey said, gesturing at your tears with her wand, “I’m not going to feel bad for you no matter what you do.”

Kaya jumped off Tracey’s bed, startling you, and walked over to Tracey’s side. Tracey reached down to her, but she kept walking - over to you. She circled your feet a couple of times. 

You reached down instinctively, and she nuzzled into your hand. You remembered the first day you had seen her at Magical Menagerie, how much of a bright spot she was in a day - a whole summer, really - that had been lonely and bleak. 

“Don’t touch her,” Tracey breathed, and you looked up. “You abandoned her; you left her here just like you left us.”

“Tracey, I never wanted to abandon you. Any of you. I promise…” you trailed off, but she remained silent. It wasn't exactly an ardent wish for you to explain, but it was more than any of your friends had given you, so you took it. 

“I didn’t mean to go with him. It wasn't in the plan.”

“So you knew about Dumbledore? Sebastian said you knew about the Dark Mark since last October.”

“Yes,” you said, “I knew. He told me.”

“And you didn’t do anything about it?”

“I couldn’t, Tracey. The alternative was - if Draco didn’t… do it, You-Know-Who would’ve killed him. Killed him and his mother and his father. What was I supposed to do, sign off his death warrant?”

“People would’ve helped you.”

“Maybe. But if even one person told, if word got out at all… he would be dead. Out of my life. You must understand why I couldn’t.”

“You could’ve told _us,_ (Y/N). I don’t understand why you didn’t tell us.”

“Because you would react the same way you did when I left. If even one of you had told _anyone,_ it could have been over.”

Tracey sneered. “So you just didn’t trust us, then? Right. Kaya, come here.”

Kaya looked up and regarded Tracey, but didn’t make any moves towards her - she just stayed at your feet. “Kaya. Come here,” Tracey tried again, a rough edge of desperation in her voice. 

Kaya stayed put. 

Tracey exhaled shakily and threw her wand down on her desk, frustrated. You felt like you were suddenly intruding on something - you weren’t her friend anymore, you shouldn’t see her cry. 

“I’ll leave,” you said.

She glared at you, tears glistening in her eyes. “Yeah, leave - like you already did, just like Sadie and fucking Sebastian.”

“I didn’t want to leave you, Trace,” you whispered.

“If you could go back, would you do it again? Would you go to him?”

“I - yeah. Yeah, I would.”

She shook her head, looking away. “At least you said it with your fucking chest.”

“I miss you,” you said, “I miss you all.”

She looked back at you, and, for just a second, you thought you saw some of the animosity disappear from her eyes. You turned and left before it returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> giving you time with kaya cuz i know that's what you really want


	68. The Leopard

Slowly, surely, the winter air melted into Spring. The snow melted, leaving rain in its wake. It was late February now, and some of the more bold flowers in the courtyard were already rearing their heads. They would die as soon as any frost hit, but you admired them for trying. 

You tried to distract yourself from the fact that there were still children chained up in the Great Hall, the Gryffindors still looked like they were going through routine beatings, and Sebastian had seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth. 

It had been good between you and Draco lately - he was finally talking to you, telling you things, believing the things you said back to him. 

He was also somehow preventing you from having to participate in the Carrows’ weekly “detentions.” You didn’t want to ask how he was doing it - you didn’t want to know. You wished you could push that reality away from your mind. 

Perhaps that was cowardly. 

You thought about what Luna had said to you in the dungeons that day about your Patronus. How a leopard is strong, fierce, doesn’t give up. But leopards don’t travel in groups, don’t want companionship. They keep only a few close to them, and they can’t afford to worry about anything else.

The reality of the situation was that you cared about Draco more than you cared about a child you had never met. You would’ve completely repressed the thoughts of them in your mind, but Draco still had to do it. 

He always came back to your room on those nights looking distant and vacant, like his mind was in another place. 

Sometimes, he sat on the edge of his bed for hours, staring out into the depths of the lake, watching the fish swim by. You leaned against his side or ducked into his shoulder or sat on his lap, letting yourself be close to him. Sometimes he grabbed onto you, clutched at your robes or your skin, and sometimes he just kept staring out the window as if you weren’t there at all. 

Sometimes, you sat on the bed, and he put his head in your lap. He let you card your fingers through your hair and watch the vacancy leave his eyes, turning to drowsiness and intimacy. 

He liked your head in his lap, too. You often fell asleep like that and woke up in bed with his arms tight around you. 

Sometimes, he grabbed at your shirt, took off your robes, let his hands travel up your skin. It was slow, always slow. 

His hands were all deliberate movements, as if he had mapped out your body in his head. He held you close against him as you kissed his neck, his chest, his breathing getting heavier until neither of you could stand it anymore.

Then he would kiss you deeply, so deeply that you were afraid you would pass out from not breathing. Your tongues stroked against each other; you sucked on his bottom lip. 

It always felt like hours before he would line himself up with you, pushing into you so slowly that you whined at the feeling, squeezing your legs around him, begging him to go deeper, further inside you. 

You would watch each other for a while as he thrust into you, all of his movements in slow-motion. He took his time on your neck, your breasts, sucking in marks that would last for weeks, then licking over them, making sure they stuck. 

There was no yelling, no begging, just moaning, whimpering, whining, as you moved against each other like you had the rest of forever to do so. 

Afterwards, he either held you so tightly to him that you thought you might as well be one person, or he pushed you to the other side of the bed. You had learned to be gentle on these nights, not making him say anything at all. He would talk tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. 

“I love you,” you would murmur into his chest or his back or your cold pillow. Wherever you said it, you made sure he heard it - that he knew. 

He hadn’t said it back to you since the end of last year, when you had run out of the castle and into his arms. You didn’t mind, not really. You knew that he did, felt it every time he kissed you, looked your way, fucked you like you had all the time in the world. 

Logically, you knew that you didn’t have all the time in the world, not even close. No matter how many nights you slept in the same bed, there was a barrier between you - the knowledge that, at the end of everything, he would have to choose between his family and you. 

But you made yourself forget about that as much as you could. A leopard never gives up on its family unless it’s forced to. And you would wait until you were forced to, too. 

Outside of the days when he came back from the Carrows’ classrooms after dark, he was tentatively normal. 

He joked with you, walked with you, talked to you under his breath in class. You finally felt like you had a real person beside you, like the shadow that had been following you around all year had turned back to the boy you loved. 

By the middle of March, the frost had melted off the lake. You woke him up in the middle of the night, a bit of nostalgia spreading in your mind. 

“Draco,” you whispered, turning around in his arms, “let’s go to the lake.”

He raised his eyebrows at you, his voice rich with sleep. “You’re mad. It might as well still be frozen, how cold it is.”

“Not to swim, just to go. I want to be outside,” you said. 

You sat up in bed, losing the warmth of his blankets and his arms, and shivered slightly. He sat up too, and you leaned into his side. 

“Alright.”

You wore your robes - it would be absurd to wear a dress to the Black Lake - and Draco wore a sweater that looked like it had been tailored to fit his shoulders specifically. It probably had been. 

You made your way to the lakeshore. The castle glowed behind you, windows lighting up and going dark. Draco followed your gaze, and you could tell exactly where it landed. The Astronomy Tower.

“Don’t,” you said, putting your arm on his. 

“I can’t believe what I did up there,” he said, still staring. 

“You know, that’s not the only thing that happened up there. Yeah?”

He looked at you strangely. 

“Remember when we got caught by Professor Sinistra? And we spent Christmas Eve there, too. There are good memories up there.”

He cocked his head. “Good memories…” He raised his wand. You raised your eyebrows. 

“I meant to show you,” he whispered, then - _“Expecto Patronum.”_

A form sprung out from his wand - corporeal, no less - and you widened your eyes to get a good look at it in the low light of the night. Its scales gleamed in the moonlight, its eyes serpentine. It was graceful and menacing at the same time. 

A dragon. Of course. 

_“Expecto Patronum,”_ you breathed, raising your wand and watching your leopard spring forth. It prowled through the air, sitting and flicking its tail back and forth as it regarded Draco’s Patronus in the air. 

They stood off, staring at each other. Curious. 

“You know what memory I chose?” He asked, and you turned to him, the blue light of your Patronuses reflecting in his eyes. You raised your eyebrows, wondering.

“Remember the end of fifth year, when I went home for a few days -”

“And fucked me off completely when you got back, yeah.”

He grinned, shoving you. “Yeah, I was trying to avoid you. It was our last Quidditch practice, and I wasn't talking to you, and you were pissed. I took a shower, but you waited for me in the changing rooms. And then when I tried to walk across the pitch without you, you didn’t let me.”

“That’s your happiest memory?” You asked, incredulous. 

“Fuck off, I’m not finished. You were yelling at me, asking why I was doing all of this shit, and I realized I wasn't sure. All my logic didn’t make sense anymore. And you said - you said _I love you, I always will, I don’t care if you never say it back._ And I decided that I couldn’t give you up, not like that.”

“But I was angry at you,” you said. 

He nodded. “Yeah. That’s how I knew you meant it.”

“Still do.”

You turned back to your Patronuses. They were closer together now, the dragon’s head cocked as the leopard prowled around it, both taking each other in. Finally, the dragon bowed its head, and the leopard paused. They stared at each other. 

You watched in fascination as the leopard curled up beneath the dragon’s feet. There was nothing here that you needed protection from. 

By the time you got back to the dungeons, you had figured nobody would be in the common room. Draco recalled the password - still “magic is might” - and the passage opened up. 

You leaned against him as you walked down it, the dying fires the only thing lighting up the common room beyond. 

You saw Tracey first. Then Simon. But there was someone else. 

Tracey turned slightly, and you caught sight of his face. 

And you were running. You didn’t think about it all, didn’t care to remember that last time you had spoken to him he had told you never to talk to him again. Sebastian was safe. He was safe, and he was here. 

Tracey stepped away instinctively so that you didn’t run into her, and you launched yourself into Sebastian’s arms. You looped your hand around his neck, holding yourself tightly to him. He smelled a bit like charcoal. 

“Get off him,” you heard Simon mutter, and you felt Tracey’s hand on your arm, trying to pull you away. You didn’t care. You just kept hanging on, desperately breathing him in, your whole body flooding with relief that he was okay, that he wasn't in danger. Tears pooled in your eyes.

And after a couple of seconds, you felt his arms come up to hug you back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope the dragon makes sense! i went to the online version of the patronus test that has all the questions and answered them how i thought he would and got dragon, which people guess about him anyways so :) technically he can't produce a patronus in canon because he doesn't have enough happy memories, but i figured being with y/n he would


	69. Ancient Runes

You made your way through the Great Hall, walking towards the Slytherin table and trying to ignore how the other students moved out of your way. Draco wasn't with you - he was finishing some work in his room - so it was less bad than usual, but it was hard to ignore.

You took a deep breath in, steeling yourself, as you made your way down the table. For a second, you considered sitting at your usual place and backing out of your hastily formed plan. But you couldn’t. If you wanted things to go back to how they were - and you did - you would have to be the one to do it. 

So you kept walking until you were standing next to Sebastian. Tracey and Simon glared at you from across the table. 

“Get out of here,” Simon said, and you felt another pang of anxiety, but you pushed through it and sat down next to Sebastian.

“What the fuck?” Simon muttered, “I said, _get out of here.”_

“Let her stay,” Sebastian returned, and you shot him a grateful look. He shook his head at you. “I haven’t forgiven you,” he said, then turned back to Tracey and Simon, “but I want her here.”

Simon scoffed, but Tracey put her hand on his arm. 

“Simon…” she said, and his eyes flashed angrily. 

“Her boyfriend broke my fucking nose,” he said, then got up and left. 

Tracey stood up after him. “Simon, come on!”

He didn’t turn back, though, and you felt a bit sick to your stomach as you watched him leave the Great Hall. You looked back towards Tracey, who sat down and shook her head. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, “I didn’t mean…”

She looked up at you, considering. After a couple of tentative seconds, her face relaxed the slightest bit. She nodded at you quickly. 

“Michael would’ve broken his nose too, if he did that to me,” she said, then shrugged. “He’ll come around. Probably.” She stabbed a raspberry with her fork and stuck it in her mouth. You felt your heart lift a bit - that was Tracey’s equivalent of saying that you could stay. 

“I don’t blame him,” you said, “I don’t blame any of you. I would’ve been pissed too. I probably wouldn’t have talked to you either. But I _promise,_ I didn’t ever want to lie to you, I didn’t want to hurt you, and I didn’t want to leave you guys behind.”

Tracey squinted at you as she chewed her fruit. 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said to me,” she said slowly, “about how you couldn’t tell anyone anything because the alternative was… you know.” She stabbed her fork into the air. “I’m not gonna pretend like I’m not pissed off that you hid all that from us, and I _definitely_ don’t understand why you would do all that for Draco fucking Malfoy. But…”

She trailed off, then shook her head. “Fuck it. I _have_ missed you, you know. And your cat is a fucking handful.”

“Give her a honeysweet with her food, they calm her down,” you said. Tracey paused for a second, sizing you up. Then she nodded. It wasn't forgiveness, but it was a promise that she would let you make it up to her. 

“I should go after Simon,” she said, getting up and shoving her Herbology book in her bag. You weren’t sure whether she actually had to go or if she was just trying to leave you and Sebastian alone. Either way, you were thankful. 

You turned to Sebastian, who was already looking at you. 

“Sebastian,” you started, not sure how to explain yourself to him, not even sure where to begin. 

“Is it true you were crying over me?” He asked, and you thought you saw a little flash of humor in his eyes. You smiled slightly, watching him as he struggled not to break out into a grin. You felt your anxiety melting off you.

“Yeah,” you said, “Yeah, I was a mess.”

You were both laughing then, attracting confused looks from the rest of the somber Great Hall. Before you knew it, his arms were around you, and you hugged him back. 

“What happened? I thought…”

“It’s alright,” he said, breaking apart from you. “I just had to stay home for an extra couple of weeks because my family’s gone under Order protection. I had to learn the security measures and everything, and I couldn’t write you all in case my owl was intercepted.”

“I should’ve told you about everything last year,” you said, some of the joy dripping out of your voice, “I should’ve at least told _you._ I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “I lied earlier - I think I have forgiven you. I can’t blame you, really - who knows what I would’ve said to Katie Bell while drunk?”

You hugged him again, feeling your chest swell. You still had to work on Simon, and it would take a lot more for Tracey to truly forgive you, but you had Sebastian back. For now, that was all that mattered. 

“You’re living at Malfoy Manor?” He asked. 

You nodded. “They can’t let me go, knowing what I know. And I have no idea where my parents are, anyway.”

“But you aren’t… involved…” 

You grimaced. “Well. I’ve never - I’ve never been a _part_ of anything, any of You-Know-Who’s plans. But I have to… see him, sometimes. When he comes to the Manor.”

“See him?”

“Draco tries to keep me upstairs when he’s there, out of the way, but sometimes he… sends for me. And they caught me talking to Luna Lovegood once, so… that was a bad one.”

“What’d he do to you?” Sebastian asked, his eyes full of concern. You considered not telling him, but you had already lied to him enough. 

“He tried to make Draco use the Cruciatus curse on me,” you said quietly, and Sebastian’s eyes widened. “But he couldn’t. So he Crucioed Draco himself, then me.”

“Shit,” Sebastian said. “I mean… _shit.”_

You held out your arms as if to prove that you could still use them. “I’m alright.”

“You really sacrificed a lot for Draco...” he trailed off. 

You nodded slowly. “Sebastian, please don’t tell me it wasn't worth it. I’ve already heard enough of that. I don’t want a repeat of last year, I… to me, it was.”

“I wasn't going to,” he said softly, “it’s not up to me to decide whether it was worth it.”

You grinned. He smiled back at you, then went to grab a piece of bacon and stuffed the whole thing into his mouth. He turned to you, his mouth full of food, and said something completely unintelligible. 

You raised your eyebrows. “Swallow, Seb,” you said. 

He swallowed, throwing up a middle finger as he did so. “I _said,_ come to my room tonight. You wouldn’t believe how much fucking work I’ve missed, and I need your help in Charms.”

“Yeah,” you said, feeling like you were glowing, “Sure.”

It was midday by the time you returned to Draco’s room. He was burning a candle, doing Ancient Runes work. You leaned over his shoulder, smiling at him. 

“Hi,” you said, taking a look at his paper. It was filled with symbols that you knew you would have no chance of translating. Not for the first time, you found yourself incredibly thankful that your third-year self hadn’t taken Ancient Runes. 

He turned around, smiling softly back at you. “What has you so happy?” He asked.

You shrugged, lying back in his bed. “I’m going to Sebastian’s tonight. Helping him with work,” you said, smiling harder at the thought. It had been months without your best friend, and having him back felt like the best thing that had happened to you in a long time. 

Draco stood up in your peripheral vision. 

“Sebastian?”

“Yeah. He’s forgiven me. And… I think Tracey will too. And so will Simon, someday. And if Sadie was here, I know she would, too.”

“Well, that’s great,” Draco said, but his tone sounded more bitter than happy. You sat up a bit, watching him walk closer to you. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

He shrugged. “Maybe you shouldn’t forgive _them,_ did you ever think of that? (Y/N), they’ve made you feel like shit all year.”

You shook your head. “No, they were right to be mad. I would’ve been mad too. I just want to go back to how it was between us.”

“Well, you can’t,” he said sullenly.

“Why’s that?”

He shook his head, then sat down next to you on the bed. His weight shifted the mattress a bit, and you lay back down, staring at the ceiling. He was silent. You sat back up, leaning your forehead onto his shoulder. He brought his hand up to rest on your back, running it up and down slightly. 

“Tell me,” you said softly, and he shook his head. 

“They might… take you away. From me.”

“They won’t. I promise. You have friends too, you know, and I don’t worry about them.” 

He shook his head again. “I don’t have friends. I have Crabbe and Goyle, who only listen to me because of my father. And Pansy and Blaise don’t even - they know my family isn’t what we used to be. They don’t care about me anymore.”

His hand ran up and down your back. You exhaled softly. 

“You have your whole world outside of me,” he said, refusing to look in your eyes, “I don’t have that. You’re my only escape. From everything.”

“Alright,” you said gently, “then you come with me when we hang out.”

He snapped his head to you immediately. “You know that’s not what I meant. I don’t like your friends.”

“You’ll have something in common, then. They don’t care for you much either.”

You walked through the Great Hall again for dinner, his hand in yours, pulling him behind you. People were still throwing you murderous glances and stumbling out of your path, but you were oblivious to them as you made your way towards your friends. 

Sebastian looked up first, grinning, raising his eyebrows when he saw Draco behind you. 

You sat down, and Draco stood above you for a second before he reluctantly sat, too. Simon got up to leave, but Tracey put her hand on his arm. 

“Simon,” she hissed, and he growled in frustration, but stayed put. He kept his eyes downcast, staring at the food on his plate instead of making eye contact with you. 

Tracey gestured at Draco with her fork. “That’s bold, bringing him here.”

Draco scoffed. “I knew this was a bad fucking idea.” He went to get up, too, but you put your hand on his leg and shot him a look. He looked away, sighing, but stayed at the table. 

“Well!” Sebastian said, his loud voice disrupting the quiet of the Great Hall as always. “Elephant in the room - we don’t fucking like each other much, do we?”

Draco raised his eyebrows, looking back towards Sebastian. “No,” he supplied. You shot him another look. He could at least make an effort.

“Right,” Sebastian said, narrowing his eyes at Draco. “But we both agree that we wouldn’t do anything to hurt (Y/N), yeah? We wouldn’t do anything to put her in danger?”

You felt Draco bristle beside you. 

“Are you suggesting that I’m putting her in danger?” He asked, his voice low.

“No, mate,” Sebastian said, “just want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“We aren’t _mates,”_ Draco hissed. You pressed your hand into his leg a bit more, steadying him. He took a couple of breaths, still staring at Sebastian. “...But yeah. We better be on the same page.”

Tracey sighed loudly, and you looked up to see that she had contorted her face into a dramatic display of boredom. 

“If you two are done comparing the size of your dicks, I’d like to talk about something more interesting,” she said, pausing for dramatic effect. “Theo’s hooking up with Millicent Bulstrode.”

“Oh, ew,” you said, “How do you know?”

“Her room’s right next to mine. And apparently, neither of them knows how to cast a Silencing Charm.”

“How long has this been going on?” You asked, all animosity between the two of you forgotten in favor of a new piece of gossip. 

“A month, give or take,” she said, shrugging. 

“That’s wrong,” Draco said from beside you, and you turned to him, confused. He shrugged. “They’ve been at it for at least three months now. I caught them hooking up in the bathroom in November.”

Tracey gaped, clearly caught between her hatred for Draco and her need for more information about Theo and Millicent. She popped a bite of food in her mouth, thinking about it. 

“November?” Sebastian recalled, then his eyes widened at the same time as Tracey’s. 

Tracey spoke through the food in her mouth, overcome by the revelation. “But Millicent was dating that Elliott kid from Ravenclaw in November! Oh, just _wait_ until Michael hears about this.” She turned back to Draco. “You’re sure it was them?”

He nodded. “Yeah, it was them. Theodore practically jumped up the walls once he saw me. He’s dead scared of me ever since I gave him a black eye in fifth year. And... Millicent’s shirt. Was off.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Oh yeah? I’m sure you remember that _very_ clearly,” you said, grinning. He looked sheepish. Sebastian laughed, choking on his pumpkin juice, and you pounded him on the back. 

Simon still had his head down, eating quietly, but besides that, you felt like the tension had finally broken between you. 

“Can you take Kaya tonight?” Tracey asked you, “she’s clawed up one of my curtains. I love her and everything, but I think she’s better behaved when you’re around.”

“Yeah, course I can,” you nodded. 

“Bring her to my room,” Sebastian said, “I swear she likes me now. You’ll see.”

“What’s going on in your room?” Tracey asked.

“Studying,” Sebastian replied, “I’m hopeless at Charms.”

“Charms?” Draco asked, “that’s the easiest subject in the whole school.”

There was a momentary silence, then Tracey snorted. 

“We may not like him, Sebastian, but he’s right. If you’ve fallen behind in Charms, I don’t even want to speak to you about your Transfiguration grade.”

Sebastian grinned. “That’s exactly why I asked (Y/N) instead of you.”

“Well, I’m inviting myself,” Tracey said, “I have an Ancient Runes essay - so do you, Simon.”

Simon shook his head, scoffing. He looked up for the first time. His jaw tensed. “I can do it on my own, thanks.”

Tracey shook your head. “No, you can’t. We’re both hopeless at Runes. And we’ll be in your room, anyways. Come on.” She tried to put her hand on his arm again, but he shook it off and stood up, walking out of the Great Hall with a purpose. 

Tracey sighed. “I’ll make him do it. He’s just… well. Not as ready to forgive as the rest of us.” She paused. “And the rest of us weren’t ready to forgive very easily, so that's saying something.”

She got up and went after him, leaving you, Draco, and Sebastian sitting in a row. Sebastian got up, smiling at you. 

“I’ll see you in a couple of hours,” he said, then his eyes traveled to Draco. He cleared his throat, suddenly a bit awkward. “You can come too,” he said, “if (Y/N) wants.”

You grinned at him, and he nodded at you. 

“I’m not going,” Draco hissed as soon as Sebastian was far enough away so as not to see you. 

You pulled him to his feet, leaning into him. “Yes, you are.”

He sighed into your ear, but rested his nose against your forehead—reluctant agreement. 

Kaya ran circles around Sebastian’s room. He had lied to you earlier - the cat definitely hadn’t come around to him - but at least she wasn't trying to bite him every time he leaned down to pet her. 

Sebastian lounged in his bed, Simon and Tracey sat on Simon’s bed, and you and Draco sat on a couple of cushions on the floor. He had shot you a look of disdain when you had motioned to them, but he sat down all the same, his legs crossed. 

You were sure that the only reason Simon was here was that it was taking place in his room, but you didn’t care. He was here. That was all that mattered. 

Tracey was working diligently on her Ancient Runes paper, Simon was working far less diligently, and you were trying to teach Sebastian the Charms lessons he had missed. 

“Right, so, for the Gouging Spell -” you started.

“The what?”

“Gouging Spell - it’s in the textbook.”

Sebastian groaned, lying back on his bed. “As if I actually read the textbook.”

“It’s not Charms he should be worrying about anyways,” Tracey said from across the room while scribbling onto her parchment. “It’s Transfiguration and Dark Arts.”

Sebastian groaned again, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Honestly, I miss a month of school, and you all act like I’ve missed three years.” He sat up a bit. “I thought Dark Arts was just the Unforgivables this year.”

“Nope,” Tracey said, still not looking up, “we’re doing Fiendfyre now.”

“Fuck me,” he said, eyes widening, “they’re letting Crabbe and Goyle learn how to make Fiendfyre on top of the Cruciatus Curse?”

His face reddened slightly, and he turned to Draco. “Er… no offense.”

Draco shook his head. “‘S fine.”

“Yeah,” Simon said, and you snapped your head to his. It was the first thing he had said all night. “I suppose it’s fine for you - Death Eaters won’t punish one of their own, will they?”

You bristled a little bit but kept your mouth shut. 

“Whatever, Simon,” Tracey said, “you know they don’t properly punish any Slytherins. Don’t act like he’s getting special treatment.”

“Fuck you, Tracey,” Simon spat, “you agreed with me about this not even a week ago, but now that you want to suck up to (Y/N) again you’re going to forgive everything? Just forget that her boyfriend is a fucking Death Eater?”

Tracey looked up from her parchment for the first time, regarding Simon coldly. “You’re creating an argument for argument’s sake because you want everyone else to be as miserable as you. It’s annoying. Stop.”

“So you think I’m wrong - you think that the Carrows don’t treat Malfoy any differently. Have you forgotten they keep him behind to let him torture third years?”

“That’s -” you started, but Draco cut you off from beside you before you could continue. His voice was quiet but firm. 

“That’s not a choice,” he said, making direct eye contact with Simon. He was never shy. “I fucking hate it.”

Simon’s face hardened as he stared back at Draco. “I suppose that’s why you keep doing it.”

“You wouldn’t understand why I keep doing it. It’s easy for you to be moral, isn’t it. How long has your family been under Order protection - two years now? They’re protected no matter what you do.” Draco’s tone wasn't mean, wasn't condescending. It was just firm and clear. You felt a little flicker of pride. 

“Your family is where they are because of the choices they made,” Simon growled. 

_“They _made them,” Draco shot back, “Not me. It’s worse to have to punish someone than it is to be punished. The only person you have to blame, the only person you have to hate is yourself.”__

__“And you _should_ hate yourself,” Simon said. “There’s always another choice.”_ _

__“Simon,” you joined the conversation for the first time, and his eyes snapped to you, swimming with a bit of surprise, “don’t talk about things you don’t understand.”_ _

__“Guys, why don’t we all -” Sebastian said, but Simon interrupted._ _

__“I understand plenty. You made your choice, and Malfoy made his. I don’t fucking understand why we’re even letting you into our room.”_ _

__“Maybe you would’ve chosen differently,” Draco said, his tone still clear and devoid of emotion. “Maybe you would’ve let the only people you love in the world go. Maybe you would’ve let them get tortured and killed just to do the right thing - just to protect your precious morals. But I’d make the same choice again.”_ _

__A silence fell over the room. Simon glowered at Draco, but there wasn't much to say to that, so he bent back over his Ancient Runes textbook and scribbled something in the margin. He pressed down so hard that the tip of his quill broke, and he threw it down onto his bed._ _

__“Here, Simon, let me,” Tracey said, taking his book from him and handing him a new quill._ _

__Simon looked into his lap. “I can’t fucking figure out this symbol,” he murmured, and his tone sounded more defeated than angry now._ _

__“Okay, let me,” Tracey said, patting him on the back gently, “right… so… it’s like half a pine tree, sort of, rotated…”_ _

__“Ansuz,” Draco said from beside you. You looked at him in disbelief. Tracey looked up too. “That’s the name of the symbol - ansuz. Looks like half a pine tree. Corresponds to power, so it could be describing a powerful person or a system of power, depending on the context of the rest of the sentence.”_ _

__Tracey gaped. You were surprised too - you had heard Tracey, Simon, and Sebastian trying to describe the different runes to each other many times over the years. They had rarely ever been able to identify what symbol the other person was talking about, much less translate them._ _

__Simon grabbed his book back from Tracey, glared at you, and walked out of the room._ _

__There was a spot of silence. You turned to Draco, catching the obvious uneasiness in his eyes._ _

__“He’ll come around,” you said, but you weren’t so sure._ _

__“Yeah, he will,” Sebastian agreed, “at some point.”_ _

__Tracey shook her head. “I’ll make him. It’s Sadie, you know? It’s easier to cope with the fact that she’s gone if he can blame it on the two of you.”_ _

__“Yeah,” you agreed, “I get it. I mean… it must be hard for him, being without her.”_ _

__“Right,” Tracey agreed, “well, it’s the same thing that happened between the two of you, really. You _couldn’t bear to be without_ Malfoy or some shit like that. You would think Simon could be a little more empathetic.” She considered, turning to Draco. “Well, you did break his nose. But aside from that.”_ _

__Sebastian chuckled. “You’ve done a full one-eighty, Trace. End of last term, you were making us promise never to talk to (Y/N) again.”_ _

__Tracey blushed slightly, grinning at you. “I forgot that she’s actually quite fun to talk to.”_ _

__You smiled at her, leaning back into Draco’s side._ _

__“One of us should go after Simon,” Tracey said, holding up his broken quill, “he’s probably bent over his book pretending to read it and thinking murderous thoughts.”_ _

__“Not me,” Sebastian said, “he’d want to complain to me, and I have to figure out what a Gouging Spell is _and_ how to make Fiendfyre by class.”_ _

__Tracey grinned wickedly. “(Y/N), why don’t you go.”_ _

__You shook your head. “I think that would make things worse. He would just want to yell at me.”_ _

__“Then let him yell at you. I, for one, found yelling at you very therapeutic at the beginning of term. And only after that did I consider forgiving you. You just need to remind him why you’re friends, yeah?”_ _

__Right. Tracey made a good point - things wouldn’t work out with Simon if you were only seeing him in group settings. And he didn’t seem very eager to catch you alone._ _

__“Okay,” you said, standing up. Draco stood up too._ _

__“I’ll…” he trailed off, “see you in my room?”_ _

__“Yeah,” you agreed._ _

__“We don’t want to know about that, (Y/N),” Sebastian called out from the bed, and you were surprised to see Draco smile slightly at his words._ _

__You parted ways in the doorway, then walked down the hallway towards the common room. Just as Tracey had predicted, Simon was sat by the fire, leaning over his book, his finger tracing over the lines of runes whose meanings he had no idea how to decipher._ _

__“Simon,” you said, and he turned around._ _

__“I don’t want to talk to you,” he said._ _

__You stopped walking for a second, but shook your head and kept moving._ _

__“Well, you have to talk to me,” you said, injecting force into your words, “Because I’m not losing your friendship.” He looked up at you. “I’m not,” you insisted._ _

__“You already have,” he muttered, looking back down into his textbook._ _

__“I know you’re not actually reading that, so don’t bother pretending,” you said. “And you would’ve already left the room if I had genuinely lost you.”_ _

__He kept looking into his textbook, but his finger no longer ran down the page. You could tell he was listening to you, which was honestly all that you could hope for._ _

__“Simon, you can’t imagine how hard things were for me last year. I wanted to tell you everything, all of you - I came close a couple of times - but it’s what Draco said. Telling anyone would be risking losing him. And as much as you say the opposite, I think… I think that’s what you would do, too. That’s why we’re in Slytherin in the first place. We protect our own. We protect the people that we love first.”_ _

__He scoffed._ _

__“I do love him, Simon. It’ll never be as perfect as you and Sadie, but I do.”_ _

__He looked up, making eye contact with you. “Don’t say her name.”_ _

__“You think losing her is my fault.”_ _

__“I haven’t lost her,” he said, his voice faltering slightly, “I just don’t know where she is.”_ _

__“And you think that’s my fault?”_ _

__“It’s everyone’s fault who’s on his side. And you’re on his side.”_ _

__“No, I’m not. I swear to you, I’m not. You know me, Simon.”_ _

__“I used to know you.”_ _

__“I haven’t changed! I just did what I needed to do to stay with Draco. I promise you, I don’t believe the things they do. I don’t work for them… as far as I know, she’s safe.”_ _

__His eyes glistened with tears._ _

__“As far as you know,” he repeated blankly._ _

__“I’ve not seen her, and nobody’s mentioned her name, either. She’s probably in hiding somewhere.”_ _

__There was a pause, a moment. He stared you down, gazing into your eyes, and you tried to push every emotion you were feeling out of them, to make him understand._ _

__“I miss her,” you whispered._ _

__He stood up. You took a step towards him._ _

__“And I miss you, too,” you breathed._ _

__You held your breath for a second, then exhaled as you felt his arms circle around you. You ducked into his neck, feeling his tears against your forehead. It was a clumsy hug, but you held onto him tighter, trying to squeeze all the hurt out of his body._ _

__“This is enough,” you whispered to him, “you don’t need to forgive me.”_ _

__He exhaled. “Fuck you. I do.”_ _

__Draco was waiting for you in his room, already in bed, and you crawled in too, pressing yourself close to him, not caring that you were still wearing your school sweater. He hugged you into him, his hands moving under the hem of your shirt and resting against the warm skin of your back._ _

__“You alright?” He asked, his voice low and drowsy._ _

__“Yeah,” you said, “really good.”_ _

__He rested his nose on your forehead, fluttering his eyes closed._ _

__“I wish we could stay here forever.”_ _

__“We still have two more weeks until Easter,” you said._ _

__“I hope we never go back. I hope the Manor gets destroyed. I hope the whole fucking world gets destroyed.”_ _

__You rubbed your hands in little circles on his back. “Don’t say that,” you whispered, “We want the world intact, remember?”_ _

__He chuckled against your forehead, a little exhale of breath._ _

__“As long as you’re intact,” he said, “I don’t give a fuck about the world.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh the character development


	70. Blood

The Manor’s gates were somehow taller than you remembered them. Your stomach turned the way it always did after you apparated, and you shook your head, willing the feeling to go away. 

Macnair and Narcissa had been the only people waiting for you at King’s Cross - you weren’t sure what Lucius and Dolohov were otherwise occupied by, and you didn’t want to know.

Draco took your hand as you walked up the pathway. Macnair apparated away, and Narcissa walked ahead of you. As soon as you entered the Manor, she turned to stare at you. 

She raised her eyebrows at your intertwined hands, but didn’t say anything. 

The house was ominously silent. You thought of Luna and Ollivander in the dungeons and felt a bit of strength course into you through Draco’s hand in yours. 

Being at the Manor had always made you feel inferior, partly because of the grandeur of the place itself, partly because of the cold demeanor of the Malfoy family, and mostly because the past two times you had stayed here, your relationship with Draco had been tumultuous at best.

Feeling him steady beside you made you feel less powerless, bolder. 

“Mrs. Malfoy,” you said, figuring you were in no way on a first-name basis. 

She looked at you, her eyebrows raised. She always looked a bit like a moving portrait - stately posture, every strand of hair in place, makeup flawlessly applied. She was like a perfectly wrought statue - imposing and elegant. 

“I was wondering,” you said carefully, “is Luna Lovegood still here?”

“Yes,” Narcissa returned.

You exhaled. At least if she was still here, she was still being fed, being kept alive. 

“Is she alright?” You asked.

Narcissa’s features hardened, her brows dipping lower over her eyes. “You’ve already caused enough trouble talking to her,” she said icily, “whether or not she’s alright is no concern of yours.”

“She’s a friend from school,” you defended yourself.

Narcissa took a step closer to you, imposing. You held Draco’s hand a little bit tighter as she raised her chin a bit, looking down on you. 

“Have you forgotten what happened last time you spoke to her?” Her eyes flashed with anger. “If you _ever_ put my son in danger again…” She trailed off, as if unsure what exact threat she wanted to make. 

“Mother, she didn’t mean -” Draco started. Narcissa rounded on him, her anger giving way to a sort of desperation. 

“It’s not about what she meant! We must watch every action, every word we say now! She doesn’t understand what could happen to us if we don’t. You control her, Draco, or it’s all of our lives on the line.”

“We’ve already been punished,” Draco said softly, but there was an edge to his voice, a bit of fear creeping in as it dawned on him that perhaps neither of you were done paying for your crime.

Narcissa shook her head. “We’ll never stop being punished.” She reached her hand out and placed it gently on Draco’s shoulder. 

“The things that could happen to you…” she mused, almost to herself, her whole body softening as she stared into the eyes of her son. The marble that she had been carved out of was chipping and melting. 

“Don’t worry about me,” Draco said. Even though you were holding his hand, you felt like you were leagues removed from the two of them, like you were intruding on a private moment between them. 

Two people who loved very few besides each other. 

“I have to worry about you,” Narcissa insisted softly, “you don’t know what’s happened.”

“Has father -”

“Your father is fine,” Narcissa said, her hand tightening on Draco’s shoulder. “It’s Rowle.”

“Is he… dead?”

“Worse.”

They stared at each other for a second, mother and son, acknowledging the danger that merely living in their own home posed, the possibility that the entire Malfoy bloodline would be wiped out in the coming weeks unless they completely conformed to the whims of a man who had only ever loved the thought of his own power. 

She walked you both upstairs, stopping at Draco’s door with him. It was clear that you were to go to your room. The green chair in the corner taunted you, reminding you of the imprisonment you had endured here, which in turn reminded you of Luna in the dungeons. 

For a second, you thought about sneaking out to see her, trying to get past Peter somehow, but the thought was dangerous and ridiculous. 

You had seen the look in Narcissa’s eyes as she had warned you and Draco to watch your every word, every action. You couldn’t do anything that would put him in danger now.

The sun went down, staining your room an odd shade of red. For a second, you debated whether or not you should go to Draco’s room. There was no doubt that the Dark Lord knowing about you two had already been extremely dangerous.

But you two had come so far since Christmas break, since the last time you were here, and you didn’t think that you could be here alone, not really. 

You stepped out into the hall, the wood cold under your bare feet. You were wearing a ridiculous nightgown, white lace and puffy sleeves. The air was somehow colder in the hallway, and you walked down it carefully, listening for anything out of the ordinary, any sign you should return to your room. 

There was nothing. You pushed his door open lightly, expecting to find him sitting at his desk or lying down in bed. 

Instead, he was standing in the middle of his room, and so was his mother. They turned to look at you. 

They had clearly been arguing. Draco’s jaw was set, and Narcissa’s eyes were slightly rimmed as if she had been crying. 

“No,” Narcissa said to you, “you can’t come in here.”

She turned away from Draco completely, taking a step towards you and assuming her normal posture. “You can’t come near him anymore, understand? It will only put him in danger.”

You froze, unsure, and your eyes darted to Draco’s. He was staring at the back of Narcissa’s head.

“Mother…” he spoke softly. 

Perhaps it was a strange comparison to make, but the way he spoke reminded you of how Dumbledore had said Snape’s name on top of the Astronomy Tower that night. _Severus._

He was pleading in the most genuine way he knew. 

Narcissa turned around carefully, facing away from you and towards her son. They stared at each other for a second. Again, you felt like an imposter in their home, in their life, in their plane of existence. 

Then Narcissa turned and left the room, brushing by you without looking at you. 

The sun’s bright red light had faded into a low orange glow that spread across the room as you and Draco regarded each other. You stood in his doorway for a second longer, trying to shake off all the uneasiness that had been heaping upon you from the moment you got off the train. 

“Come here,” he spoke softly, and you obeyed, crossing the room and falling into his arms. 

He pressed the side of his face into your temple. 

“Don’t worry about anything,” he whispered, and you broke apart from him, feeling like you had absorbed some of the sun’s fading light into your chest. “It’s just you and me, just like always.”

He smiled at you, and you smiled back. Part of you knew that he couldn’t be happy, not really, that he was just trying to look strong so that you wouldn’t be worried. But another part of you thought that he might be the same as you - he might be able to forget about everything else when you were around. 

He pushed his lips into yours, and you smiled at the thought that you could make him happy. You felt him smile back against you. 

The room was warm, or maybe that was just him. Your nightgown was gone almost immediately, followed by his sweater, followed by his trousers. His hands were everywhere, his lips following them, kissing your cheek, your neck, your forehead, your lips, your eyelids as they fluttered closed.

He was gentle, his thumbs tracing small circles on your torso, your waist, your breasts as he kissed you. You kept your eyes closed and your arms wrapped loosely around his neck. You felt a bit like you were dreaming - or maybe in that state between sleep and wake where every single touch felt numb and electric at the same time. 

You were breathless, leaning into whatever parts of his body you could find as he explored you, finally picking you up and carrying you to his bed, letting you drop slightly onto the edge. 

You kept your eyes closed the whole time, just reaching for him, pulling him back into you. Safe and warm. 

The sunlight began to fade around you, turning from golden to a little bit of blue as the moon came out. Draco lay you down, moving on top of you, and you opened your eyes then - you had to. He looked as perfect as he always did, the light of the moon seeming to glow brighter as it hit his hair, his skin, his hands.

The narrow window cast a slender shadow on the ground, and you stared at it absentmindedly as his lips returned to your neck. You tangled your hand in his hair just to feel it between your fingers, brushing through the strands as he kissed you, trailing his lips up to your jaw, just under your ear, across your cheek, back to your lips. 

You kissed him deeply, bringing your other hand to his face. You broke apart from him to trace your thumb over his cheekbones, over his jaw, around his chin, his bottom lip. He watched you watch him, his eyes a little wide. 

“So beautiful,” you murmured, unsure if you were speaking aloud or not. 

He leaned back into your lips, kissing you deeper, and you felt like maybe you were floating, maybe you weren’t at the Manor at all anymore. Maybe you had slipped away into another dimension; maybe you were somewhere high in the sky. But his skin was too warm for that. 

His lips moved back to your neck, and you felt your teeth this time, pulling at your skin, elongating every touch of his lips to yours. You felt tears inexplicably pooling in your eyes as you kept brushing your fingers through his hair, tangling and untangling each strand. 

You felt your body squirming, constricting with want, whimpering as he exhaled onto your neck. He looked back up at you, his brow furrowing slightly as he watched a tear trace down your cheek. 

“You’re crying?” He asked, voice soft.

You shook your head, unable to explain the emotion that was currently gripping you without sounding stupid. Your hand came down from his hair, falling to his neck, then his shoulder, where you held on. 

“You alright?” He asked, eyes still trained on yours. 

“Yeah,” you breathed, nodding, crying, just wanting him with you.

He nodded, then ducked back into your neck. It was just his lips again, inexplicably kissing you everywhere - your pulse point, your jaw, your earlobe - but other places too, meaningless spots on your shoulder, just below your collarbone, the side of your neck. 

Tears kept spilling out of your eyes with every little touch, and you couldn’t explain why yourself. Every motion of his was gentle, small strokes on your upper arm, his finger tracing over your upper lip. 

His hand moved to the side of your underwear, the last bit of clothing left between you. He looked up at you as if asking for permission, and you nodded. He hooked his thumb into the hem and pulled them down your legs easily, his eyes locked on yours the entire time. 

His gaze left your face to track over your body, then flicked back up. When he met your eyes, it was like he was seeing you for the first time. He shut his eyes for a second, and when he opened them, you swore they were a little bit glassy.

“I wish I could be good for you,” he said, and your chest contracted. 

Your hand on his shoulder traveled back to the side of his face, imploring him to keep his gaze fastened on you. 

“You are,” you insisted, not letting him shake his head.

“You’re perfect.” He said it as if the words were hurting him. 

You weren’t sure whether he had ever said anything like that to you before. It made you feel a bit like you were glowing, like the golden light of the sunset was back, taking you over. 

Only it wouldn’t be the sun’s light. It would be the moon. He had always looked best in the moonlight, just like tonight. Just like this. 

You wanted him so bad it hurt, so bad that the pressure was almost too much. 

He leaned down even further, pressing a kiss so low on your stomach that it sent a small shockwave through you. 

Then his tongue was on you. You exhaled shakily, half a breath, half a moan. You lay back, digging your nails into your palm, pressing your back into the pillows under you. He was all practiced movements, sucking on your clit slowly but forcefully, knowing exactly how to make you come undone. 

He took you until your hand in his hair went from casual brushing to squeezing fistfuls, until your shaky breaths turned to outright moans, until your body was twisting uncontrollably underneath him. 

Then he looked back up at you, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh then moving back up your body, nudging your nose with his and kissing the remnants of the tears on your cheeks. 

You ached for him inside you, wishing at the same time that he would do it all at once and draw it out. 

“I won’t be long,” you murmured, already close to climaxing with just the thought of him inside you. 

He shook his head. “Me neither.”

He pushed into you slowly, and your eyes fluttered shut, your hands coming up to his back. You felt the urge to cry again, but you didn’t let yourself. You felt his lips push lightly against yours, and you parted them immediately, letting him latch onto your top lip as he filled you up. 

He groaned into your mouth softly, and you moved your hips up to meet him, a steady rhythm building between you. You clung to him, suddenly feeling very needy. 

It only took two strokes before your entire body stuttered, pitching towards him as you came. He hummed into your ear, letting his grip on your soften. He reached his own high only seconds later, collapsing on top of you, restricting your breathing a little bit. You didn’t care, just ducked into him, pulling him even further against you. 

Somehow, his lips were on your face again, kissing you everywhere. 

“I love you,” you breathed, “I love you so much, you can’t imagine -”

“I know,” he replied, his voice gravelly. 

When he pulled away from your face, you caught a tear falling down his cheek. 

________________________

You rested your head on his shoulders. The air was still cold, and you wore a shawl around your shoulders, but the sun was bright enough to heat your face as you and Draco sat in the middle of the gardens. 

A couple of peacocks wandered around aimlessly. You watched them absentmindedly, eyes widening every time they unfurled their tail feathers. 

“You like them?” Draco asked.

“Course I like them,” you said back. 

You couldn’t say that the mood at the Manor for the last couple of days hadn’t been dark. Voldemort himself hadn’t been back at all - he was off doing something that nobody knew about - but it seemed like there were more Death Eaters at the Manor than there had ever been before. 

Bellatrix had practically taken up residence, standing in for her master. 

It was rare to find these little moments of levity with Draco, sitting in the sunny gardens, lying in his bed in the middle of the night, sitting in the windowsill and watching the sunlight, casting the Patronus charm and watching his dragon and your leopard meandering about. 

So perhaps it wasn't surprising that this one was interrupted by the sound of shouting at the end of the lane, outside the wrought iron gate. 

“Fenrir Greyback!” Someone growled, and you felt Draco tense next to you. There weren't many things that he feared. Greyback was one of them. 

The image of Greyback on the night of Dumbledore’s death flashed into your mind - his beard matted with blood, a feral look in his eyes as he clawed Draco’s shoulder and shouted at him to kill Dumbledore or he would do it himself. 

Then, horrifyingly, his voice said something else.

“We’ve caught Harry Potter!”

You turned to Draco immediately, seeing the shock on his face quickly give way to dread. You grabbed his hand, clutching it, both staring at each other as if hoping that you had heard wrong. 

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head, “they can’t have. Not when it’s been…”

You stood up, panic flowing through your body. Draco kept his hand in yours, trying to pull you back to the ground. When he couldn’t, he stood up with you, putting his hands on your waist to steady you. 

“Don’t get involved,” he whispered, “you can’t.”

You shook your head, then nodded. Every part of you wanted to run inside, to make sure that they hadn’t got Harry. Every part of you wanted to stay here with Draco and erase having ever heard the voice from your mind. 

Then the door to the gardens opened, and Narcissa stepped out. 

“Draco,” she called, and you both turned to her. Foreboding pooled in your stomach, making your whole body feel heavy and sickly. 

Her eyes flicked to you. 

“Both of you, come inside. They say they have Potter.”

Draco gripped your hand in his. There was no choice anymore. You followed him into the Manor, grabbing at the shawl that was draped over your shoulders so that it wouldn’t fly off behind you as you moved. 

Lucius Malfoy was already in the room when you entered. You hadn’t seen much of him since coming back to the Manor, but, from what you had seen, he was worse for the wear. The bags under his eyes were more pronounced than ever, and the expression of superiority that he had worn for years seemed to have given way to a sort of resignation. 

His face was transformed now, looking almost excited. You turned the corner, taking in the whole room - and you saw them. 

Greyback and two other Snatchers were standing in the middle of the drawing room, the light of the glass chandelier throwing odd shadows across their faces. 

And in their arms, they held Ron, Harry, and Hermione. 

Harry’s face was swollen, puffed up, but was unmistakably him, especially next to Granger and Weasley, who he was seldom seen without. 

Guilt stabbed at your stomach. 

All three of them had dirt smudged all over their faces and bodies. Their clothes were worn and ripped. There were little scratches and scabs distributed all over their bodies. Harry’s eyes were consumed by the swelling skin of his face, but Ron and Hermione’s were blazing with resistance. 

You couldn’t imagine how you and Draco looked to them. You were wearing a nice dress that pooled beautifully at your feet, a shawl wrapped around your shoulders to protect you from the bite in the air. Your heels clicked as you walked. 

As usual, Draco was wearing an all-black suit, perfectly tailored, looking like it had just come out of the box that very morning. You couldn’t see yourself, but you couldn’t imagine that either of you looked particularly defiant - more reluctant, wary.

The difference between the choices you had made and the choices they had made seemed utterly monumental. 

With a start, you noticed that there were two more figures in the drawing room - they had been hidden in the shadows skirting the edge of the walls. There was a goblin, and a taller boy, who looked almost like -

Your heart sank at once, the feelings of dread and guilt intensifying so much that you felt your vision swimming. 

Dean. 

He was staring right at you, his expression unreadable. 

“We must be completely sure that this is Potter before we call the Dark Lord,” Narcissa said to you and Draco, “certain. We cannot afford to be mistaken.”

You thought about what she had said about Rowle, how he was worse than dead. Fear struck through you. 

“Well, Draco?” Lucius asked, walking closer to Harry, “is it him?”

Draco glanced at Harry. “I don’t know,” he said quietly, looking back down at his feet. 

Lucius sneered. “And you?” He asked, eyes boring into your face. 

“I can’t be sure,” you breathed. 

“What about the Mudblood, then?” Greyback snarled, thrusting Hermione into the light of the chandelier. 

Your stomach flipped as you saw recognition take over Narcissa’s face. 

“Yes - that’s her,” Narcissa said, “We saw her in Madam Malkin’s last year. Draco, isn’t that her?”

“I… maybe… yeah.”

“And the Weasley boy!” Lucius murmured, gripping Ron’s arm tightly. He turned to you, a look of triumph on his face. “Come on, blood-traitor should know blood-traitor. Is this him?”

You shook your head. “I - I never knew them, sir,” you whispered, and Lucius practically growled back at you.

“Liar. But no matter… we have enough now.”

Just then, a door opened. You turned around to see Bellatrix enter, her eyes roaming around the scene. They landed on Hermione, and a grin took over her face. 

“But that’s the Mudblood girl,” she said, and Lucius nodded.  
“We have Potter,” Lucius said, as if he had made the discovery himself. 

Bellatrix pulled up her sleeve immediately, exposing her Dark Mark. You turned to Draco, and he looked back at you, his eyes betraying real fear. But before she could touch her wand to it and call the Dark Lord, her eyes caught on something that one of the Snatchers was holding. 

“Where did you find that sword?” She growled, advancing on them, tensing in anger. 

“It was in their tent,” Greyback said.

There was a moment of silence. Then Bellatrix raised her wand in quick succession, stupefying each of the Snatchers. Then she turned on Narcissa. 

“Bella, this is my -” Narcissa said, but Bellatrix shook her head, cutting her off.

“You have no idea the danger we are in if the Dark Lord finds that sword,” she hissed. 

Narcissa fell silent as Bellatrix turned back to Greyback. “Take them to the dungeons,” she said. “But leave the Mudblood to me.”

You couldn’t help reaching for Draco’s hand, gripping it tightly, holding onto it like a life raft in the middle of a choppy sea. Ron’s face melted into pure terror as Greyback grabbed him, Harry, and Dean, and pushed them towards the door to the cellar.

“No, not Hermione!” He called, “Take me instead! You can have me, keep me, don’t hurt her!”

But his words fell on deaf ears, and soon you couldn’t hear him at all. 

Tears were falling from Hermione’s eyes as Bellatrix circled her. You pressed your hand even further into Draco’s, trying to distract yourself from what was about to unfold. You willed him to squeeze back, but his hand was limp in yours. 

“Where did you get that sword?” Bellatrix hissed, stepping closer to Hermione, who was shaking. 

“We found it,” she breathed, clearly fighting to keep her voice steady. 

You felt Lucius’s eyes on you from the other side of the room, staring at you, willing you to step in or try to leave. You knew if you did either, he would turn you over to the Dark Lord. He had been looking for a reason to get you out of his house and his son’s life since he first laid eyes on you. 

You kept your eyes trained forward, trying to focus on a tiny spot on the floor where the wood was lighter. 

_“Crucio!”_ Bellatrix shouted, and Hermione screamed, her face breaking open with the force of the sound. She crumpled to the ground, her hand reaching out to try to steady her body on an armchair. 

_“Where?!” _Bellatrix repeated, letting Hermione breathe for a second. She shook her head, her hands shaking as she brought them up to touch her face, to make sure that her body was still in one piece.__

__You thought of how it had felt for you, opening your eyes on the floor of the Manor’s dining room after you had been Crucioed, seeing Draco’s blurry face hovering above you. It was like you had just woken up after breaking every single bone in your body._ _

__“We found it -” Hermione tried again, throwing her hands in front of her face as Bellatrix raised her wand for the second time - “PLEASE!”_ _

___“Crucio,”_ Bellatrix hissed, and Hermione screamed again. You thought you could hear someone yelling something from the dungeons - probably Ron. You felt a pang in your chest thinking about what it was like watching Voldemort torture Draco. _ _

__“You _filthy little Mudblood,_ I know you’re lying to me! I know you stole that sword!”_ _

__“No, we didn’t, please -” Hermione’s pleas were cut off by another horrifying scream. Her hands twitched as her body folded in on itself._ _

__Being tortured one time had been the worst pain you had ever felt in your life. You couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to be hit with the spell over and over again._ _

__“How did you get into my vault at Gringotts?! Was it that goblin that helped you?”_ _

__“We only just met him, I swear it, just tonight!”_ _

__“You’re LYING! Tell the _truth,_ or I’ll run you through with a knife…” Bellatrix stood over Hermione’s crumpled form. _“Crucio,”_ she whispered again._ _

__This time, Hermione didn’t scream. She let out a sort of breathless sob of despair, her features contorted, her mouth open as if she wanted to yell but couldn’t. The image of Charity Burbage hanging upside down in the air flashed through your mind._ _

__“HERMIONE!” You could hear Ron’s voice clearly now, screaming from the dungeons._ _

__It was all too much. You still felt Lucius’s eyes on you, but there was no way you could watch this anymore - seeing Hermione being tortured was bad enough, not to mention the fact that looking at her was reminding you of one of the most traumatic moments of your life._ _

__You squeezed Draco’s hand and looked up to see that he was transfixed in horror, staring at his aunt with tangible fear in his eyes. You folded into his body, curling your face into his chest. You felt him startle as if he was breaking out of a trance. His hand came to rest on the back of your head._ _

__“Your father will tell -” you murmured, already regretting looking away from the scene and showing affection to Draco when it could so obviously be used against you by his father, Bellatrix, anyone at all._ _

__“Don’t watch,” Draco whispered._ _

__“What else did you take? ANSWER ME!” Bellatrix roared, and you gripped Draco’s suit jacket in your fists, sharply inhaling, squeezing your eyes shut so that you wouldn’t have to see the way Hermione’s body contorted as she was tortured._ _

___You’re a coward,_ you thought, _you must be._ A tougher person would try to stop Bellatrix or break the rest of them out of the cellar, or at least be strong enough to watch, to force yourself to feel the guilt of being part of the reason this was happening to her. _ _

__Perhaps you were a coward. But there was no way you could step in without risking Draco’s life on top of your own, and there was no way you could continue to watch._ _

__“It was a copy, I swear, we’ve never been in your vault!” Hermione pleaded, crying, so far away from the girl whose eyes roared with rebellion even in the arms of the Snatchers._ _

__“A copy! I would have expected a better lie from you, Mudblood,” Bellatrix was seething with rage, even more unhinged than usual. You wondered why this sword was so significant._ _

__“But we can find out!” Lucius said, his voice breaking over the scene with cold force. “Draco, get the goblin from the cellar. He can tell us whether or not the sword is real.”_ _

__You quickly undid your body from Draco’s, not sure if you were fast enough to stop Bellatrix from seeing you shield your eyes. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye to see him nod slowly._ _

__He walked through the drawing room towards the cellar door, leaving you alone._ _

__Hermione was still on the floor, tears running down her cheeks as she struggled to get her breathing under control. You bit your lip, willing yourself to look away from her, to look like you didn’t care._ _

__You looked up to meet Bellatrix’s eyes, and you knew at once that she had seen you in Draco’s arms. She regarded you curiously for a moment, then her eyes narrowed and her mouth turned up into a formidable sneer._ _

__“And I thought it was just a passing infatuation,” she drawled, “I thought you were just a little plaything of his, like that Parkinson girl. No, no…” She turned back to Narcissa and Lucius. “Your son, fucking a blood-traitor under your roof!”_ _

__“You said it yourself, Bella,” Narcissa said, “we can hardly let her roam free.”_ _

__Bellatrix hardened. “Then put her in the cellars with the rest of them. She has yet to prove her loyalty to the Dark Lord.” She turned back to you. “Tell me, darling,” she drawled, “did watching little miss Mudblood get what she deserved frighten you?”_ _

__You blanched, a thousand thoughts running through your head at once. You reminded yourself sternly to keep your head high, shoulders back. You willed yourself to shake your head, fingers gripping at the corners of your shawl to steady you._ _

__“If it was up to me,” she growled, “you’d be on the ground next. Screaming even louder.”_ _

__Fear spiked through your body, but before anything else could happen, Draco returned to the room with the goblin in tow. You kept yourself from looking at him as he crossed the floor._ _

__Suddenly, you thought you heard a crack from the cellar, almost like apparation. But it couldn’t be - very few people could apparate to and from Malfoy Manor._ _

__“What was that?” Lucius snarled, looking around the room. You avoided his glare. “WORMTAIL!” He shouted, “go check the dungeons!”_ _

__Peter Pettigrew seemed to materialize in the doorway out of nowhere, nodding in that animalistic way of his and scuttling towards the cellar door._ _

__The goblin took the sword in his hands, looking it up and down. You wondered again why it was so significant, why Bellatrix was so frightened at the prospect that somebody had been in her vault._ _

__“Is everything alright down there?” Lucius called towards the dungeons._ _

__“Yes, everything’s fine!” A voice called back. It was wheezy and high-pitched like Pettigrew’s, but there was something off about it, as if it was an imitation. Your eyes widened. Could they have…_ _

__“Yes, it’s a copy. A fake,” the goblin said decisively, taking a step back from the sword. You exhaled - at least there was no more reason to torture Hermione._ _

__Draco returned to your side, but neither of you made any moves to interact with each other. Bellatrix’s words echoed in your mind, warning Narcissa and Lucius to stop associating with you. You wondered why they hadn’t put you in the cellars in the first place._ _

__“Good,” Bellatrix said, rolling up her sleeve to expose the Dark mark for the second time. “Then we’ll call the Dark Lord. She touched it with her wand, and it started writhing at once, the snake protruding even further from the unhinged jaw of the skull than usual._ _

__Your heart almost stopped in fear. Voldemort was coming, when Harry was here too - what if…_ _

__“The Dark Lord will want Potter, and I suppose the Weasley boy is valuable too, blood-traitor though he is. The Mudblood, though… we can dispose of her. Greyback, would you -”_ _

__But before she could finish, a tremendous crashing noise came from the doors to the cellar, and you turned around to see Harry and Ron standing there, wands raised._ _

__Ron almost looked crazed. “NO!” He shouted._ _

__There was a beat, a moment of silence._ _

__Then, chaos._ _

__Harry disarmed Bellatrix before she could even turn around and used the wand he caught to stupefy Narcissa, whose stiff form fell against the wall._ _

__Draco tossed his arm in front of you, shoving you behind him as he extended his wand towards Harry. Greyback and Lucius also raised their wands, advancing on the two boys. Hermione, seemingly revived by the sight of her friends, propped her body up on an armchair._ _

__It happened almost in slow motion. As the men moved around the room, wands raised at each other, tossing out hexes and curses, Bellatrix, wandless, turned around and grabbed Hermione’s weak form, pulling her to her feet._ _

__“STOP OR SHE DIES!” Bellatrix shouted, holding her silver knife to Hermione’s throat._ _

__The action froze._ _

__“Drop your wands,” Bellatrix hissed._ _

__Ron dropped his at once, Harry half a second later. You felt like your head was splitting open, hoping that Harry, Ron, and Hermione somehow got away and knowing that you would have to withstand Voldemort’s rage if they did._ _

__“Draco, pick them up,” Bellatrix said. He did as he was told, now holding three wands in his hands as he returned to your side._ _

__“The Dark Lord approaches,” Bellatrix breathed, the words filling her with ecstasy._ _

__Then, suddenly, you heard a strange grinding noise from above._ _

__You looked up just in time to see the chandelier falling from the ceiling._ _

__You felt like you were frozen, unable to move, and just before it hit the ground, you felt arms around you, pulling you away. You heard the sound of glass shattering, felt beads skittering past your feet._ _

__Draco had blocked you from any of the shards hitting you, and you ducked your face into his chest until the sound of breaking glass subsided._ _

__You glanced over his shoulder to see that Bellatrix had been forced to let go of Hermione. Ron was already on her, pulling her out of the wreckage, holding onto her waist._ _

__Draco pushed you backwards, further away from the chandelier’s broken form, but all at once, you felt his body tense, and he pulled away from you, letting out a noise that sounded almost fearful._ _

__You looked up to see Harry, all three wands in his grip, throwing a spell at Greyback, who flew into the air. Draco’s eyes widened with fear and trepidation. He had dropped the wands to pull you away from the glass._ _

__You heard Bellatrix and Narcissa yelling something, saw what you thought was a house-elf, and then Harry, Hermione, and Ron were gone, taking Draco and Bellatrix’s wands with them._ _

__You couldn’t move for fear of stepping on glass, and you could already feel minuscule shards digging into your hands, your cheek, your neck, even though Draco must have blocked you from the worst of it._ _

__You stared up at him, the momentary relief of knowing that Voldemort couldn’t kill Harry immediately replaced by the fear, the inescapable knowledge that you would both be punished for it - you all would._ _

__A crack sounded, and you didn’t even need to look up to see who had entered the room. It was as if the air had gotten colder._ _

__Draco took a step away from you, and you felt a little pang. As if that would help. Voldemort could easily look into his mind - into anyone’s mind who had been in the room - and see that it had been his need to protect you that had lost him the wands._ _

__“Where’s the boy?” The Dark Lord asked, his voice at once cold and shaking with anticipation._ _

__There was silence._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not ALL OF YOU wanting to end up with sebastian hahaha


	71. Children

You couldn't tear your eyes away. Literally. They had been charmed to stay open and unmoving, a cruel touch to an already brutal routine. Perhaps you should be used to it by now. 

It had been two weeks since Harry, Ron, and Hermione had escaped the Manor, taking Dean, Luna, the goblin, the house-elf, and Ollivander with them. 

Since then, Easter holidays had ended, the Hogwarts Express had pulled away from King’s Cross, and the Carrows had resumed their tenure at Hogwarts. 

But you and Draco hadn’t left on the train. 

No, every person in the house on the day Harry escaped hadn’t left it since. Bellatrix, Lucius, Narcissa, you, and Draco. Pettigrew had been found dead in the cellar, his metal hand wrapped around his neck. 

Voldemort had nudged his lifeless body with his bare foot, looking disgusted, and made Lucius dispose of it. 

The Dark Lord himself was spending more time than usual in the Manor. After all, the crime of letting Harry Potter escape warranted an extreme amount of punishment. 

He had to send a message to the rest of his followers, you supposed - that nobody, not even the once-powerful Malfoys or Bellatrix, Voldemort’s former right-hand man, was above retribution. 

But beyond that, he seemed to relish in the torture, enjoy hearing the screams of people who had been beaten into mere shadows of their former selves for failing to be loyal to him. 

You had wondered, watching Bellatrix cast the Cruciatus Curse on Hermione countless times, how it would feel to be tortured like that, to be brought to the brink of death again and again. 

Now you knew. 

It was Lucius’s turn now. 

Voldemort stood over his body, pointing his wand down as he writhed on the dark wooden floors of the Manor that his noble, powerful family had inhabited for centuries. His platinum hair, once perfectly groomed, was tangled and matted with blood. The bags under his eyes had gotten so bad that they looked almost red. 

The redness seeped into his eyes too, bloodshot, red tangles of nerves where blood vessels had broken. His pale skin was bruised in sickly shades of purple and yellow, and there was a deep cut across his sallow cheeks that always seemed to be open, dripping blood down onto his robes. 

You probably didn’t look much better. But you didn’t fancy looking in a mirror to check.

You stared at Lucius - you had to stare, there was no other choice - as he pleaded, throwing himself at the mercy of his master over and over again and never getting any respite. 

As he screamed his throat raw, tears streaming from his reddened eyes, he looked almost inhuman. You remembered the way he had looked sitting in the Quidditch stands second year, marching through the hallways after the Chamber of Secrets had been closed. 

Or in Madam Malkin’s at the beginning of fourth year, sitting next to Narcissa, regarding you and your mother with cold grace as he waited for Draco to leave the changing rooms. 

If the rest of you were shadows of your former selves, he was something even smaller - a wisp, a shell, wholly broken and diminished. 

But you would rather watch his husk screaming for mercy than watch his son. 

Luckily, Voldemort seemed to have attributed the disaster chiefly to Lucius, who he seemed to have been looking for a reason to torture for some time now. He tortured Lucius the most often and for the most extended amount of time. Though you couldn’t truly know, you judged by the sounds he let out that he was also being tortured the worst. 

He hadn’t ever tortured Bellatrix, but she was taking it just as severely as her brother-in-law. She had gotten paler, her hair had somehow gotten wilder, and she was hanging off Voldemort’s every word, every command. 

Perhaps failing the man she loved was torture enough for her - though you struggled to call it love, what she felt for him. It seemed more like an obsession, like something insidious was slowly taking over her insides. 

Her wand had been taken, anyway, so she was utterly helpless. 

Narcissa had only been tortured once. You wondered whether Lucius would ask to take her place, but he sat quietly in his armchair, not speaking a word. You supposed that that was wise. His eyes swam with tears as it happened, but he had blinked them away, unwilling to allow the Dark Lord to see him feeling anything other than pain or indifference. 

Narcissa had given her wand to Draco. 

Surprisingly, Draco hadn’t been getting tortured much either. It had only happened three times, and each time you had felt like you might faint on the spot. Your eyes were charmed to stay open and on him, but your mouth wasn't charmed to keep silent, which you had learned the hard way after you had let out a cry of distress watching Draco on the ground. 

Besides Lucius, you were getting the worst of it. 

Voldemort used Legilimency on each of you to recount the events of Harry’s escape, and, though you had been but a passive observer, he decided that you deserved to be punished almost as much as the man who had overseen it. 

Perhaps it was because of your blood-status. 

But when he had looked into your mind that first time, his eyes like freezing talons in your head, prying into your memories, he had lingered on the moment that Draco had blocked you from the falling chandelier. 

You knew that Voldemort didn’t believe in love, didn’t understand it in the slightest. But he seemed to know the best way to torture Draco was by hurting you. 

You focused your eyes back on the scene in front of you, watching Lucius struggle to his feet. His legs shook under his weight, which had dropped considerably in the past two weeks. 

You inhaled deeply, predicting what was coming before the Dark Lord even turned to you. 

He fixed you with a cold stare, the purple veins sticking out from his ghostly white skin. 

“Come forward.”

You did it without a second thought. No matter how many times he raised his wand to strike you, to torture you, to dig into your mind, you promised yourself to keep your head held high. You would never become Lucius; you would never retreat so far into yourself that the rest of the world would be forced to wonder whether you were there at all. 

He was in your mind before you could even prepare. 

Draco was the only person who had been in your mind before, and his clumsy attempt had only worked because you had no idea how to employ Occlumency. After he had gone through your head, you had learned some. 

Now, with the Dark Lord himself clawing through your memories, you were forced to refine your techniques to perfection.

The first couple times he had employed Legilimency against you, you had been utterly unprepared for the magnitude of his power. Every memory he had perused had been filled to the brim with emotion, especially those having to do with Draco. 

He had tortured you ruthlessly after that. His voice echoed through your head as your body went rigid on the floor, screaming and whispering at the same time. _When will you learn what makes you weak,_ he had hissed, and you still weren’t sure whether he had said it out loud or just put the thought into your head. 

Now, you had built up a sort of tolerance. You could in no way control what Voldemort saw, but you had learned to drain some of the feelings from the moments he looked at, making yourself seem less invested in the people around you. 

This time, he was replaying your memory of Bellatrix torturing Hermione. You focused on the same spot on the floor that you had tried to look at when it was actually happening. You started to feel the overwhelming fear and shock you had felt watching it for the first time, but you forced yourself to become numb, unfeeling. 

You heard your past self let out a sob, and watched your field of vision move as you curled into Draco, felt his hand come up to the back of your head again, felt the texture of his jacket as you bunched it up in your fists. 

It was just a memory, but you still found being near him strangely comforting. You hadn’t properly spoken to him since that day. Even when Voldemort wasn't at the Manor, Narcissa and Lucius were no longer allowing him near you at all, ushering him out of the room as soon as the Dark Lord left. 

But you made yourself keep feeling numb, refusing to let Voldemort see you loving Draco when you knew what the consequences of those feelings were. 

Your memories melted into pain. You hadn’t heard him say the word _Crucio,_ but there was no other explanation for the way your body was dissolving into itself. Your vision blurred, flashing white, Voldemort’s figure above you multiplying as spasms wracked your body. 

You couldn’t hear yourself scream, couldn’t hear anything at all, but you assumed you must be. 

All of a sudden, it subsided. 

Your head swam, throbbed, but you still tried to force yourself to get to your feet. It quickly became apparent that you didn’t have the strength. Instead, you got to your knees, staring at the floorboards beneath you, willing them to stop moving. 

“Better,” Voldemort said, and you weren’t sure whether he was referring to the fact that your memories were carrying less emotion or the fact that you had been able to prop your body up. 

“You knew who they were as soon as you saw them,” he said, clearly referring to Harry and the rest. “You knew, and you lied. You _lied_ to your master.”

You forced your eyes open, forced yourself to look up at him as your vision slowly returned to normal, though still disrupted by tears. 

“Do you still want to be one of them, blood-traitor?” He sneered, pushing his foot into your shoulder, knocking you over. The message was clear - you were beneath him. “Do you still hope to fight for the light side?”

You clenched your jaw, righting yourself, still kneeling beneath him. 

“Ah,” Voldemort spoke, “perhaps you do. But you have already chosen. You must be reminded which side you’re on.”

For a horrifying second, you thought that he might mark you. But the thought dissipated quickly - he would never mark a blood-traitor. Then you thought he might just torture you again. 

But instead, you felt a white-hot pain on your back, over your left shoulder blade. It was unlike the Cruciatus curse - you didn’t feel it all over, you didn’t feel like you must be on the brink of death - but the pain was so focused, so intense, that your head hurt even more. 

It felt dark in a different way than the Cruciatus curse did. Almost as if it was infecting you with something, like the skin it was touching would rot off your body, taking all your goodness with it. 

You felt him step back from you, heard him speaking, heard the telltale crack that meant he had left, he was gone. 

But the pain stayed. You felt drops of what must be your blood running down your back, slicking your dress. A woman’s voice yelled something, and you sobbed, letting yourself go entirely now that he was gone. 

You reached out, trying to grab onto something, but your arms felt weak, and your head felt heavy and light at the same time. 

You blinked, willing your vision to stop swimming as you pulled yourself up on an armchair. The pain started to subside, going from intense heat to a sort of ache. 

You felt arms wrap around you, and you struggled against them, trying to push them away. 

“It’s just me,” Draco said, his voice solemn, and his scent washed over you. Vanilla. You leaned into him, letting him support you. You hadn’t been in his arms in so long. It hurt.

He was practically carrying you as soon as you walked a couple of steps. It was ridiculous to think that you could walk after being tortured like that, but you still felt a sting of embarrassment every time your knees buckled, fighting a little bit as Draco lifted you off the ground.

You felt him walking up the stairs, sure steps. Your back was on fire, heating up your whole body with the mark of whatever curse he had left on you. You felt drops of blood trickling down from the wound. Staining your dress.

His smell intensified all at once, which you supposed meant he had carried you into his room. Your theory was confirmed when you felt his bed beneath you. 

Whatever Voldemort had carved into your back stung wildly, throbbing. You were afraid to touch it, afraid to open your eyes. Your mind suddenly flashed back to the day that Umbridge had made you carve _I must not tell lies_ into your skin. Draco had waited for you then, too. 

Suddenly, you felt a coolness on your back, draining some of the pain away, and your hearing came back in. You hadn’t noticed that it had gone out. 

Someone was muttering spells. It didn’t sound like Draco, it sounded almost - but it had to be him. You reached out blindly and felt his hands on yours. 

You opened your eyes slightly, letting them adjust to the light for a couple seconds before looking up to see him standing over you. 

There was someone next to him, too. 

Narcissa’s wand was pointed at you. You had half a mind to flinch back, but it became clear in an instant what was happening. She was the one speaking, murmuring incantations, and it occurred to you that she must be the reason why the pain in your back had gone from a wildfire to a controlled burn. 

You blinked, clearing your vision. Draco’s hand was on his mother’s shoulder, and she was trembling wildly as she stared you down, her lips moving to cast the spell over and over. The pain in your back subsided more and more. 

Finally, she dropped her wand, curling her body into her son’s. Draco looked surprised, then wrapped his arms tentatively around her. 

“Children,” she sobbed, then turned and looked at you. 

You met her gaze, staring at her, no doubt reminding her of every threat she ever made to you. Her eyes fell to your necklace, then back up to you, and something in her demeanor shifted. 

She took a step towards you, then another, clearly unsure of what she was doing. Her hand landed on your shoulder. Your mouth fell open, slightly as you gazed up at her.

“You’re just children,” she breathed, “My god… children.”

Then her arms were around you, and you hugged her back without a second thought, tears pricking your eyes. 

_______________________

After the last time, Voldemort had been coming back to the Manor less and less. In truth, this probably meant that he was closer than ever to his goal of infiltrating Hogwarts, taking back the last stronghold that remained partially in opposition to him. 

But it also meant that you could go outside again. 

Voldemort had carved a snake onto your back. It took up half of your shoulder blade. According to Narcissa, the wound was cursed. 

It would never disappear, never fade into the rest of your skin. It would never properly scar, either. Instead, it would stand out for the rest of your life: raised, red lines displaying the choices you had made. 

You felt like crying whenever you thought about it too long. 

You wondered what your friends were thinking, back at school, where they thought you had gone. Maybe they understood, maybe they knew that something must have happened that would prevent you from getting back on the train. Rumors were probably already swirling around about Harry’s escape from the Manor, especially if Luna had gone back to school. 

Maybe they thought you had fully committed to the dark side. You dismissed that thought quickly - no, of course they didn’t. You had been through enough this year to hope that they could trust you again. 

You and Draco had spent all your time together since Voldemort left - in his bed, in the gardens, leaning against the banister on the landing, sitting in an armchair and watching him read, trying to avoid Lucius’s general demeanor at the dining room table. 

You were always pressed together, always touching, as if to remind each other that you were there. You hadn’t been speaking as much as usual - not because you were angry, just because neither of you wanted to talk about the situation you were in. 

The sun was genuinely warm now, at the beginning of May, and you didn’t need a coat or a shawl as you sat with Draco in the gardens. 

It was the end of the day. The sun was slowly closing in on the horizon. Your legs were intertwined with his, your head resting in the crook of his neck, leaning against his shoulder. His hand held yours lightly in his lap, running over the silver signet ring that he had shrunk to fit you what felt like lifetimes ago. 

“I probably should have offered myself up every time he tried to take you,” Draco said out of nowhere. You shook your head softly. “That’s what Weasley tried to do for Granger, did you hear him?” He asked. 

“Yeah, I heard him.”

“That’s what I should’ve done,” he repeated. “Told him to torture me instead.”

“That would have just made it worse for both of us,” you said, gripping his hand a little tighter. He turned his head so that you could feel his breath across your forehead. 

The sunset was beautiful. The sunset was lifeless.

You held his hand as you walked back towards the house. When you got inside, Narcissa was standing next to the window. She had been watching you. Things were different between you now, ever since she had helped heal your shoulder, but you certainly hadn’t become the best of friends.

“Go upstairs, Draco,” she said softly, “I’d like to have a word with (Y/N).”

You released Draco’s hand, and he left the room. 

As soon as the door closed behind him, Narcissa turned back to you, stepping closer.

“I loved that dress,” she said quietly, and you looked down at it. It was black, rouched, unmistakably beautiful. 

“It was yours?” You asked. She nodded.

“Everything you have on once belonged to me,” she said. 

You raised your eyebrows. 

She nodded again. “Yes, everything. Even the necklace.”

“Draco bought it for me at Dervish and Banges,” you said. 

“No. He took it from the Manor. It’s a Black family heirloom, given to me by my mother.”

You reached your hand up to the snake-like chain, fingering it. “I didn’t know,” you said.

“I expect he didn’t want to scare you off,” Narcissa replied, her voice uncharacteristically soft. 

“I wouldn’t have been scared.”

She regarded you for a second, almost curiously. “I don’t think you would have been either,” she agreed after a while, and you felt a weight on your chest lift. 

“I’m sure Draco doesn’t know what the necklace is capable of doing. You said you heard his voice through it,” she mused, and you nodded. “The necklace allows the person who receives it to connect with the person who gave it to them in times of emotional duress…”

You remembered the times you had heard his voice through the necklace - when he was crying to Myrtle in the bathroom, when he first gave up on the cabinets and started his desperate attempt at poison, on the night he was supposed to kill Dumbledore. 

“That’s how I knew, that night,” you said, “I heard his voice saying something about the Astronomy Tower.”

Narcissa smiled sadly. “Yes, well… the necklace only works if there’s a certain… connection between the giver and the receiver.”

You stared at each other, your eyes widening slightly. Narcissa nodded slightly, confirming your thoughts. 

“I know you love him,” she spoke softly, and her voice carried none of its usual superiority. 

If she was once a statue, now she was an impressionist painting, each stroke of her body blurring and glowing as she spoke. 

“Does _Draco_ know?” She asked.

“Yes,” you replied. 

There was a spot of silence. 

“If this ever ends…” Narcissa took a breath, then kept speaking, “I know what you’ve endured for my son. And I know… I can see how he feels about you. How he’s felt about you for a long time.”

You hardly dared to breathe. 

“I won’t stand in your way,” she said. It was the closest she would come to telling you she accepted you. 

You opened your mouth to thank her, feeling as though you might cry, but before you could, the door swung open again. 

Lucius walked into the room. He looked even worse, even more of a husk, in the lowlight. He rolled up his sleeve, showing the Dark Mark moving furiously on his left arm. Calling him. Calling them all. Calling you, too, even though your arm was blank. 

“It’s time.”

Narcissa’s voice echoed in your mind - You remembered what Draco had said on top of the Astronomy Tower on Christmas Eve sixth year. _It will never be over._

For better or worse, it all ended tonight. You would make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the final stretch :) :(


	72. Fiendfyre

Your stomach turned over, and you stood in place for a second, waiting for your nausea to subside. No matter if it was the third time or the eighty-third time, apparating would always make you a bit sick. 

Draco didn’t bother to wait up. He was already running through the forest, his robes billowing behind him as he wound his way through the trees. You shook your head, getting your bearings, then ran after him. 

“Draco,” you called out as loudly as you dared, “Wait for me.”

He turned around. “We have to hurry. Keep up,” he said harshly, but he extended his hand to you all the same. 

You took it, letting him drag you along as you ran through the Forbidden Forest. His hand was soft, dry, warm. You tried to focus on it instead of the impossibility of the things you would have to face tonight - both with and without him. 

Your instructions had been clear: you and Draco were to find a way into the school and weaken the defenses from the inside. Once the night was out, you were to report to the Shrieking Shack, where Voldemort had set up camp. 

Lucius was there, too - but he was sitting at the Dark Lord’s side not as a reward, but as a punishment. The Malfoys’ loyalties were no longer going unquestioned by their master. You supposed Voldemort would relish in the fact that Lucius would have no way of getting to Draco, no way of protecting his son. 

You reached the outskirts of the forest, staring up at the castle for the first time in what felt like years. The air around it seemed to be glittering, a sort of translucent layer expanding from the top of the Astronomy Tower down. 

“We need to get in before it reaches the ground,” Draco said, dragging you off again. 

As you followed him into the school, you were dogged by thoughts that you had been trying to keep tamped down for weeks - months - years, truthfully. You couldn’t dismiss them so easily tonight, though, not when it seemed like the end was indeed nigh.

You could not fight this battle alongside the Death Eaters. You could not throw hexes at your former classmates, at the people you had sat behind in Charms and practiced Patronuses with in DA. 

This was it - the line that Draco had been pushing for years. There was no way that you would return to the Shrieking Shack at the end of the night, no matter the cost. 

Which left two options - either Draco stayed in the castle with you, or he left the castle without you. 

If Draco stayed in the castle with you, he would be openly rejecting his family and the master they served. You were operating under no delusions here, and you were sure that he wouldn’t be, either. If Draco stayed with you and Voldemort won, you would both probably be killed, tortured, enslaved…

You remembered what Narcissa had said about Rowle, her voice quivering slightly. _Is he dead? Worse._

And if the Dark Lord lost, Narcissa and Lucius would probably be imprisoned. Draco would surely lose the Manor, his inheritance, everything he had grown up taking for granted. More than that, though, he would lose the presence of his parents, the only people he had ever truly loved. 

Well. Besides you. 

And if he left you? If he walked out of the castle, went back to the Shrieking Shack?

That would be your relationship over. The thought of losing Draco was sickening, horrifying - you couldn’t imagine what your life would be without his presence - but there was no way you could forgive him that. Not when the lives of your friends, your parents - most of the wizarding world at large - were on the line. 

But that was if you won. If Voldemort won… you weren’t sure what would happen. The Dark Lord wouldn’t have mercy on you, that much was abundantly clear. He would probably kill you. 

You reached the outer gates, and Draco blasted a chunk of the wall away wordlessly so that you could get through without having to make your way around to the gates, which were probably heavily guarded. 

You stared at his face as dust from the stones swirled in the air. Set. Determined. You wondered whether or not he knew that he would either be losing his family or you tonight.

The second barrier was easy for you to pass - it was enchanted only to let Hogwarts students and faculty through. They should change that, you thought - who knew how many students were on the side of the Dark Lord tonight. 

And with that, you were on school grounds, in one of the courtyards. The air was thick with dust, and you could hear someone’s voice murmuring incantations. You looked up to see that you had just passed the glittery layer of the air, and it was slowly dropping to the ground. 

As you stepped into the castle, you remembered that this was the courtyard you had touched down in that day after you had broken up with Dean and gotten together with Theo, when you had escaped Sebastian and the rest of the Gryffindors ignoring you on the Quidditch pitch. 

Cedric had been here, on his way into Hogsmeade. He had stopped his trip short to sit with you, gave you a hug and some much-needed advice. He had been the reason you had broken up with Theo, in the end. 

You remembered he had told you that he might break up with Cho Chang, that he had his eyes on someone else. For a brief moment, you wondered who it was. 

Then you were forced to turn your head away and follow Draco down the hallway. 

You didn’t see any students, which was explained as you turned a corner and saw everyone pouring out of the Great Hall. You keened your eyes, looking for any trace of your friends, but they were nowhere to be found. 

You and Draco had both worn your school robes to blend in, but now they were making you feel like an impostor.

“We need to find Crabbe and Goyle,” Draco said, moving forward. 

You tightened your hold on his hand, pulling him back towards you a bit. He threw a look over his shoulder, obviously confused as to why you were slowing him down. 

“What do we need Crabbe and Goyle for?” You questioned. “We’re meant to find a way to breach the barrier - they’re not exactly the cleverest pair in the school.”

He shook his head. “We’re not doing that.”

For a second, your heart jumped. Was he trying to foil Voldemort’s plan, too? But you quickly dismissed the thought. Crabbe and Goyle, who had been ravenously learning the Unforgivable curses all year, would hardly be good accomplices in defying the Dark Lord. 

“What _are_ we doing, then?” You breathed.

“Getting Potter.”

“How do you even know he’s here?”

“Bloody Order’s here. Swore I saw Weasley in the crowd too - his hair’s hard to miss. He’d have to be here - this is it. The fucking end of it.”

“And if we get Potter?”

“We take him to the Dark Lord.”

Draco tried to turn again, but again you pulled him back. He growled in frustration, but he let you keep speaking to him even though you knew he could’ve easily wrenched out of your grip and gone it alone. 

“That’s a desperate plan, Draco. It won’t work.”

“There’s nothing else we can do,” he said, his tone an odd mix of commanding and begging, “The torturing, the killing, everything… it’ll get worse for us - my family and you - if we don’t prove ourselves tonight.”

He spoke as if Voldemort had already won, as if the result of this battle was how badly the Dark Lord would hurt you. 

“So you think he’ll win?”

His eyes burned wildly with desperation. 

“He can’t lose - he can’t die. He didn’t then, and he won’t now. It’s a matter of time.”

He turned back around as the Slytherin students left the hall, and you easily caught sight of Crabbe and Goyle - they towered above everyone else. Draco turned back towards you - he had obviously seen them too.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, and this time you let him drag you forward. 

Draco grabbed them by their collars, and they turned around clumsily. You were almost surprised that they didn’t knock heads. They regarded Draco, twisted expressions on their faces. 

“Malfoy?” Crabbe said stupidly, “But you’re in trouble - all your family is.”

Draco shook his head, making eye contact with both boys. “Not anymore. The Dark Lord promised me a reward - we can all share it.”

“A reward? For what?”

“For bringing him Potter. Come on. I have a plan.”

Walking through the hallway with Draco had been one thing, but walking through the hallway with Draco while Crabbe and Goyle tailed you was another thing altogether. You felt their looming presence like a virus slowly spreading towards you. 

Say what you would about Draco - and there was a lot to say - but at least he hadn’t enjoyed torturing the younger students all year. You had an ugly feeling that something was about to go horribly wrong. 

You didn’t dare reach for Draco’s hand as the four of you broke from the crowd and ducked around a corner. He leaned back against the stone wall, looking around to get his bearings. You followed his lead. Crabbe and Goyle stood stupidly in the middle of the corridor.

“Draco -” you whispered, trying to figure out how on earth you were going to get to Potter. 

“Shh,” Draco said, turning his head away from you, “They’ve been in the Room of Requirement. All of Potter’s little followers. He’ll go there - I’m sure of it.”

You hated to admit it, but he was probably right. Harry would want to see his friends, and they had just come out of the Great Hall with everyone else. You wondered why they had all been called there - you felt like you didn’t know anything. 

Someone you passed had been whispering something about Snape escaping, which you couldn’t see a reason for him doing unless Harry and the Order had already confronted him. If that was true - if he, Ron, and Hermione were back inside the school… a flicker of hope played in your chest. 

You ran up stairwells and down hallways.

You weren’t wearing a nightgown, the ceiling wasn't collapsing, and Draco was right beside you. But it still felt eerily reminiscent of that night last year when you had sprinted to the Astronomy Tower with your hands around your necklace to watch Dumbledore die. 

And to try to save Draco. Whether or not you had succeeded in that remained to be seen. 

Draco pressed his back against the wall in the empty seventh-floor corridor that you knew housed the Room of Requirement. You followed suit, memories accosting you from everywhere.

You remembered the first time you cast your Patronus, standing next to Sadie. _Sadie._ You hadn’t seen her in almost a year. Harry had congratulated you with a yell. You hoped he knew that you tried your best that day at the Manor. You hoped he knew how dearly you had to pay for not giving him up. 

You had also spent a fair bit of time in the room with Draco, staring up at the cabinet, holding on to him or looking away from him, hoping that things would somehow shift, that someone would come and save you both, take you away from the fate he had been given. 

How naive. 

_“Disillusium,”_ Draco whispered, and his body blended into the wall. You did the same, and Crabbe and Goyle did too. 

You were somewhat surprised that Crabbe and Goyle had managed a Disillusionment Charm, but you supposed they paid better attention in lectures when the professor was a Death Eater who encouraged them to torture animals. 

As if you needed another comparison to the night of Dumbledore’s death - the last time you had done a Disillusionment Charm was standing on the lower level of the Astronomy Tower. You were forced to watch as Dumbledore offered Draco his help, as Draco lowered his wand, as the rest of the Death Eaters burst onto the tower and Snape raised his wand and an awful green light jetted from it. 

You forced yourself not to move, not to do anything, as Harry, Ron, and Hermione ascended the stairs, walking back and forth along the corridor until the door to the room appeared. 

You wanted to bend over and throw up. Perhaps you should make Draco choose right now whether he wanted to be with you or side with Voldemort. But the thought of saying it out loud to him only upset your stomach more. 

The trio disappeared inside the doorway, and Draco moved at once, breaking the charm. 

You followed, and Crabbe and Goyle did too. The door to the Room of Requirement swung open noiselessly, and you stepped in. 

You avoided looking towards the quadrant of the room where you knew the cabinet was, instead leaning closer to Draco as you made your way through the extensive maze of pathways filled with clutter, trying to catch sight of any of the trio. 

Crabbe and Goyle split off you, which you didn’t think was particularly wise, but you would rather be alone with Draco, anyway. 

A noise sounded to your right, and he wheeled around to inspect it, the tip of his wand glowing. Nothing there. 

“Draco, we can’t,” you whispered. 

“I told you, it’s the only way for us now.”

You shook your head, grabbing his arm and imploring you to listen. 

“Don’t you understand? They know something, the three of them. They’re looking for something in here. They might be able to stop him… if we take that chance away, then it really _is_ over.”

You thought you saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes, a hint of _something,_ at least - but before he could say anything back, Crabbe’s voice rang out, very close to you. 

“Hold it, Potter!”

You and Draco wound your way through the small mountain of old bookcases and shelves between you and the source of Crabbe’s voice. It must have taken you less than thirty seconds, but it felt like an eternity. 

By the time you got to him, Harry’s wand was already pointing into Crabbe and Goyle’s faces. 

But he wasn't holding his wand. He was holding Draco’s. You felt Draco tense next to you - you knew how much he had missed it, how frustrating it was for him to have to make do with his mother’s.

“Is that my wand, Potter?” He hissed, taking a bold step closer to Harry. 

“Yeah,” Harry said back, his voice calm and firm. He didn’t seem at all afraid of you even though it was a four-on-one matchup at the minute - but it wasn't really, Hermione and Ron were somewhere in here. And you wouldn’t hurt Harry.

“Is that your girlfriend’s?” Harry sneered, gesturing at the wand Draco held in his hand. You bristled a little bit, not pleased at being referred to simply as Draco’s girlfriend when you and Harry had been friends once.

“My mother’s, actually,” Draco returned, meeting Harry’s eyes.

Harry laughed. Draco scowled. 

“It’s plenty powerful,” he said. His voice was quiet but unyielding. “I wouldn’t be laughing if I were you.”

“And you plan on using your mother’s wand against yours?” Harry asked. It was a good point. It was hard to know what would happen if Draco tried to fire off a hex at his own wand. You couldn’t imagine it being very pleased.

“If I need to,” Draco said, stepping forwards.

“We’re gonna be rewarded,” Crabbe said proudly, “We’re taking you to the Dark Lord.”

“And you?” Harry asked, looking at Malfoy.

“Crabbe’s right. You know I spent all of last year in this room. Should’ve thought of a better place to hide.”

“I’m not hiding.” Harry’s expression hardened. “I suppose you’re proud of what you did? Bringing your lot into the school to murder him?”

“You have no idea -” Draco started, but he was cut off by the sound of a voice that unmistakably belonged to Ron. It had been a long time since you had heard him speak, but you knew it in an instant. Besides - everyone other than Ron and Hermione was already in your line of sight. 

“Harry? Are you talking to someone?” Ron’s voice asked.

Crabbe startled at the sound, wheeling towards its source and pointing his wand at a bookshelf in its line. _“Descendo!”_ He shouted, eager to prove himself. 

You gasped as the bookshelf toppled, hitting another shelf, which fell into a statue. The sound of glass breaking and furniture crashing to the floor started to spread across the room in a domino effect. For a second, you were afraid that Crabbe might have succeeded in hitting Ron, but you heard his voice again. 

“Harry!” Ron called.

“Here, Ron!” Harry answered, then _“Finite”_ \- the shelves stopped falling. 

You breathed a little easier as the noise stopped, wondering why Harry was the only one with the sense to end the spell out of all of you. Your wand was in your hand, you could’ve easily done something, but you just weren’t thinking straight. 

How could you be? You were afraid that someone would hurt Harry, that someone would hurt Draco, that the two boys would resume the duel they had gotten into in sixth year, and you would once again have to try to step between them, try to prevent one of them from almost killing the other. 

The image of Draco’s body spilling blood on the bathroom floor briefly flashed intoto your mind, and you shuddered in horror. No. You had to focus; you had to make sure things didn’t get out of hand. 

Draco grabbed Crabbe’s arm, pulling him back. He didn’t release it even after Crabbe stepped away from Harry. You could only make out part of his face from where he was standing, but you could easily make out his expression - he wasn't even trying to hide it. 

Anger. Desperation. A lick of fear. 

“Don’t go knocking shit around, Crabbe,” he hissed, “you’ll wreck the room.”

“Who cares about the room?” Crabbe answered, trying to shake his arm from Draco’s grip. You were a bit impressed to see Draco hang on, resisting Crabbe’s strength as he continued to make eye contact. 

“His friends are in here,” Draco hissed.

Crabbe’s brow dropped low over his eyes, anger flashing across his face. Draco shoved him slightly, then let go of him, turning back to Harry. Fear pounded in your stomach. Draco and Harry had already come to blows before. In this environment, especially with Crabbe and Goyle acting more unpredictably than usual, the consequences of a real altercation would be dire. 

But there was no way Harry would just come with you, no way Ron and Hermione would let him go. Draco’s desperation was written all over his face - to him, this was the only way out. It was an impossible situation. The sinking feeling in your stomach deepened.

“Who cares about his friends? It’s him the Dark Lord wants,” Goyle growled, and Crabbe nodded. 

“Harry?” Ron called again, his voice a great deal closer than it had been before. 

“Here,” Harry returned, his voice still calm. 

He took a step back, and Crabbe broke out of his semi-calm stance, rushing after him. 

“No, Potter! _Cruci -”_

But Draco was faster. He jumped in front of Crabbe, grabbing the end of his wand before he could finish the incantation. 

You felt bile at the back of your throat - even hearing the beginning of the spell that Voldemort had used to bring you to the edge of death countless times over the past few weeks was enough to make you feel weak, like the room was spinning around you. You reached out, steadying yourself on a dresser.

“Don’t hurt him!” Draco yelled, and Harry looked a bit confused as he continued to slowly back away from you all. 

“Why not?” Crabbe complained, his frustration burning across his face. 

“He’s the Dark Lord’s!” Draco growled. 

“The Dark Lord never said we couldn’t hurt him,” Crabbe said carefully. 

Harry took another step back, his foot falling on an odd board. A creaking sound echoed throughout the room. Draco grabbed at Crabbe’s arm, but Crabbe shoved by him, raising his wand.

“He’s getting AWAY! _Cru -”_

“DON’T HURT HIM, CRABBE!” Draco roared, loud enough to silence the ending of Crabbe’s second attempt at the Cruciatus curse. 

“It doesn’t matter what _you_ say!” Crabbe said, pointing his wand at you and Draco now, “you and your family are finished anyways. I don’t take orders from you anymore!”

“Just LISTEN -”

But it was too late. Ron had joined Harry, slipping out between a pile of old Charms textbooks and a large statue, and you heard Hermione’s voice echo through the room not far behind. Harry backed up, and all three of them disappeared again.

 _“Crucio!”_ Crabbe shouted after him, but the spell backfired off the statue, taking a good chunk of the marble out of it.

You gasped inadvertently at hearing the curse aloud, not missing the way your body curled in on itself as if anticipating great pain to come. Your hand gripped the dresser more tightly. You wondered if Hermione felt the same way, and for a second, you felt an odd kinship with the girl who was now somewhere in the dark around you. 

You felt like an extra. You hadn’t contributed once to the conversation, hadn’t tried to protect Harry nor defend Draco, too afraid of saying the wrong thing and setting them to blows. 

But now it wasn't Harry and Draco who you were worried about. It was Crabbe. 

He took a couple of rushing steps toward where Harry had disappeared and growled in frustration, rounding on Draco. He was seething, his whole body shaking with rage. 

“You _ruined_ it!” Crabbe roared, “Now I won’t get the reward!”

“We can find them -” Draco tried to start, but Crabbe shoved him roughly in the shoulder. He moved towards you, and you flattened yourself against the dresser, fear that he would try to torture flaring up in your chest even though there was no evidence to suggest that he was paying any attention to you at all. 

“Goyle, come on,” Crabbe growled.

“I dunno…” Goyle said.

You turned to Draco, who was looking a bit stunned at Crabbe’s disobedience. 

“Crabbe, we can find them. They have to be in here,” Draco tried again, but you knew it was a doomed attempt before he even finished the sentence.

Crabbe turned again, his wand pointed right between Draco’s eyes. You gasped, steeling yourself. You would step in between them if you had to, you decided, and you pushed yourself off the dresser. 

“I can do it without you,” Crabbe said, his tone horrifyingly dark.

Then his wand moved away from Draco, pointing somewhere further back, into the darkness. Something came over Draco, and his face transformed from the desperate determination he had been wearing all night to sickening dread. 

“Like it hot, scum?!” Crabbe roared into the dark. 

_No._ He wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t. 

He flicked his wand, and all at once, the back walls of the room glowed a horrifying shade of orange. 

“HARRY!” You heard Hermione scream, and then you heard the noise yourself. 

It was like a roar, something animalistic. The air rose at least twenty degrees all at once, and suddenly there it was - the fire, absorbing everything that stood in its path, burning through centuries of hidden things, pursuing you, growing ever closer. 

Crabbe took off, Goyle following him. You stared up at the fire for a second more, then felt Draco’s arms hook aggressively around your waist, pulling you away so hard that it hurt. 

“RUN!” He shouted, and you followed him without a second thought, feeling heat licking at your back. 

You didn’t dare look back at the fire, but you could see its shadow on the floor ahead of you; you could see how it was mutating. You followed Draco around a couple of corners, winding your way around the room, but you knew it was useless. 

It was Fiendfyre - it would follow you, intent on burning you, no matter where you ran. It would find you, cook you, kill you, no matter how many times you tried to duck away from it. 

As you ran, sounds accosted you from everywhere. 

It was Crabbe’s screams that you heard first, and your eyes widened. They continued for what felt like minutes, then faded all at once. Your eyes widened - dead, then. He was dead. You didn’t particularly care for Crabbe, but the thought that he had just been burned alive within your earshot was shocking, sickening, terrifying. 

You wanted to grab Draco, turn him towards you - Crabbe must have meant _something_ to him, at least - but you couldn’t, you couldn’t do anything but move. 

You heard Harry shouting something a couple of minutes later, and your heart pounded in relief. He was alive, at least - he could still end it. _But how,_ the traitorous voice at the back of your head whispered, _how could he get out of here?_

You rounded a corner, following Draco, only to be greeted by a wall of fire on the other side. You were surrounded, then. Your heart skipped a beat. There was no way out, nothing. 

You were about to die. 

Tears sprung from your eyes, and you cursed yourself for being so scared. Sweat rolled down your neck - your hair was slick with it, matted across your face. You were about to die in a room where nobody would ever find you. 

You were about to die without having seen your parents in almost two years, without having said a real goodbye to the friends you had kept since first year, without proving to everyone who had been whispering behind your back and in front of your face all year that you hadn’t chosen Voldemort in the end. 

The fire roared closer to you. 

You were about to die not knowing what Draco would’ve done. 

Because, in truth, there had always been a third option besides the two you had laid out. Either he stayed in the castle with you, left the castle without you… or neither of you left at all. You tasted the salt of your tears in your mouth.

The fire above you took on the shape of a massive bird, searing your face, and you reached out for Draco to find him already there. You looked at him properly for the first time since you had found Harry. The reflection of the fire roared in his eyes.

You could’ve said a thousand things to him. 

You didn’t say anything at all. 

His hands moved around you, clutching your school robes, and at least you weren’t going to die in one of Narcissa’s dresses, though nobody would ever know, because they would never find your bodies in here. 

They would probably think that you two had escaped, fled, gone into hiding. Your friends and your parents would probably believe that you had forgotten them, left them. Would they go looking for you? 

You hugged Draco to you, the air smelling like burning, rotting. You just hoped that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had found a way out. 

“I love you,” you said, but the fire was roaring so loud, slowly consuming everything around you as it drew closer, that he couldn’t hear you. 

Your body shook wildly as something crashed to the ground right behind you, sending glass skittering across the floor. The haphazard pieces reflected the fire above you just as well as Draco’s eyes had. 

His arms grew tighter around you - but they weren’t hugging; they were pulling you away from whatever had fallen. As if it mattered when you died when you knew it was coming anyway. You would rather be crushed by a falling shelf then burned alive. You wondered if the flames would be more or less painful than the Cruciatus curse. 

_“Leave it!”_ You shouted to Draco, _“We’re gone either way.”_

But he kept pulling you, until you had to take a couple of stumbling steps towards an incredibly haphazard pile of shelves and cabinets. 

_“Leave it!”_ You tried again. 

“YOU AREN’T DYING!” He yelled back, voice rife with so much determination that you were taken aback. He gestured at the mountain of furniture in front of you. 

Part of you knew that nothing would change even if you managed to make it to the top of the pile. Whether you were on the ground or in the air, the fire would still consume you. But the other part of you, the part of you that was scared to die, took over, willing you to postpone your last moments as long as possible. 

You nodded and ran with him to the foot of the tower, letting him pick you up and boost you to the top of a cabinet. You reached down to pull him up, too, but both your hands were slippery with sweat, and his slid out of yours. 

The fire closed in closer, and you leaned further out, reaching for him again. 

This time, you grabbed his forearm, getting a better grip on his robes, and pulled him enough so that he could get his footing. 

You kept climbing, keeping your gaze trained on the top of the heap or Draco beside you. Never looking down. Your grip was weak, slippery with sweat, and your whole body ached from having run away from the fire for so long. You could feel your breath getting heavier as you kept pulling yourself up. 

Your hand slipped off the top of a desk, and you lost your footing a bit, letting out a scream as you pictured yourself falling into the depths below, but Draco’s arm was on your waist, steadying you. 

Once you had gotten what you guessed was about halfway up the pile, you heard a scream from below. 

_“Help me!”_

At once, you broke your own rule, looking down. You didn’t recognize the voice, but you supposed it could be Harry or Ron - people sounded different when they were scared. 

It wasn't either of them, though. It was Goyle. He was standing at the bottom of the pile, desperately trying to climb onto the cabinet. You wondered how he had gotten there in the first place, but the bottom of his robes was already on fire, and it was spreading quickly. 

He tried to latch onto the cabinet again, and you felt Draco still next to you. 

“Oh god,” you murmured, “no…”

For a second, you thought Draco might drop his grip on whatever odd corner he was holding onto and jump down to pull Goyle up. You saw the thought flash through his eyes, at least. But you put your arm on his shoulder, knowing, _knowing_ that he couldn’t help Goyle anyway - he was already burning - and that it would probably result in his death, too. 

“HELP ME!” Goyle shouted again, but this time his words turned into a long, loud scream as the fire caught up to his skin. 

You steeled yourself, continuing to climb, checking to make sure that Draco was doing the same beside you. 

Tears flowed down your cheeks, and sweat roamed down your back as you listened to the sound of a boy being burned alive, trying to climb out of the fire yourself. 

The air got somehow hotter, burning at your skin despite the fire not being on you. Goyle stopped screaming, and you didn’t want to think about what that meant. The end was in sight - another cabinet stuck out from the top of the pile, and from there, you could see the whole room. 

Draco reached it first and grabbed your arm to pull you up to it. He was already looking around, but you didn’t think you could bear it, so you leaned into his neck, trying to find his scent of vanilla underneath the smoky, charred smell of the fire. You couldn’t. 

You steeled yourself, pulling away from him. 

The Room of Requirement was burning. It looked apocalyptic, small fires everywhere. There were a couple of piles you could see that were like the one you and Draco were on, and the fire was slowly consuming all of them, meaning that this one couldn’t be far behind from falling into the fire. You may as well jump, if it came to that. Maybe your bodies would hit the ground with enough force to keep you from having to endure the pain of being burned alive. 

His breathing was ragged as you clung to him, and you were sure yours was, too - it felt like your lungs were made of smoke, like you would never breathe fresh air ever again. 

Then you felt Draco tense, and looked up at him to see his eyes were following something in the air.

You followed his gaze, your mouth falling open as you saw them. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had brooms. Harry was on one of his own; Hermione and Ron were sharing the other. They were high in the air - you weren’t sure whether the Room of Hidden Things had a ceiling at all, but if it did, you imagined they must be close to it. 

“POTTER!” Draco screamed, and your body shook with the effort of holding on to the cabinet without a proper foothold. His arm tightened around your waist. 

You watched Harry look down at you, made eye contact with him. For a second, you thought he might leave you - you probably deserved it, in his eyes, both of you - but that had never been Harry’s way. 

He swooped down from the ceiling at once, flying towards you. 

Draco’s arm tightened even more around your waist, and he was pushing you up into the air. You realized what he was doing at once and tried to struggle against his grip - _there was only room for one of you on that broom._

The prospect of death didn’t seem as scary when the alternative was watching Draco die, but his grip was too strong to shake off. 

“TAKE HER!” He yelled as Harry got closer, “PLEASE, _TAKE HER!”_

And he did. Harry grabbed your forearm, leaning off his broom to support your waist as Draco shoved you onto the broom. You reached out your hand, trying to grab him and pull him on too, but he shook his head. 

Harry shot away, the same speed that had won him so many Quidditch games, and your tears turned into sobs as you looked back, forcing yourself not to lose track of Draco in the wreckage of the room. 

“We have to go back!” You shouted to Harry, noticing as you said it that your hands were already pulling at him desperately, trying to get him to turn around. 

“Stop moving!” He shouted back, but you couldn’t, not when Draco might -

 _“We have to go back for him!”_ You were louder now than you had been before, and Harry startled a bit as you kept wailing. 

“Ron and Hermione are,” he said, and you whipped around to see that, sure enough, Ron was directing his broom towards Draco. 

You let out a sigh of relief, but it sounded more like you were crying. The scent of the fire smelled heavy and sinister in your nose; the heat around you was making you drowsy even as adrenaline spiked through your body. 

You caught sight of a little square at the bottom of one of the walls, brighter than the rest of the room, the light it was emitting more blue than orange. 

“There!” You shouted, pointing at it, your other arm clinging against Harry so that you didn’t fall off the broom. “The door!”

“I see it!” Harry called back, and directed his broom towards it. You had never been so thankful that he was a quick flyer. You squeezed your eyes shut as the wind whipped past your face, hot and dry.

The scent of fire disappeared suddenly, and it was cold, and you felt your body hit the ground. You opened your eyes immediately, sitting up to see that you had made it. You were in the hallway outside the Room of Requirement. 

You whipped around, breathing easier when you saw Draco lying on the ground too. And Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all safe, all already on their feet by the time you looked towards them.

Draco was next to you then, and you felt his hand gentle on your shoulder, then his other hand on your waist, dragging you to your feet. 

You leaned into him immediately, trying not to breathe in through your nose. He pulled away from you. His eyes drifted all over your face like he was inspecting it before falling to your clothes, your arms, your hands. 

His hair was wet with sweat, and you could feel that yours was too. He met your eyes again. 

“Tell me you aren’t hurt,” he said softly. Nevermind that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were still standing a couple of feet away - his words were just for you. “Tell me you’re alright.”

You nodded, leaning into him, clinging onto him.

“Crabbe and Goyle?” Ron asked, his voice cold and unsympathetic. Just as well, really. He had no reason to sympathize with either of you, much less Crabbe and Goyle. 

“Dead,” Draco said. 

You couldn’t figure out his tone, so you broke apart from him to try to see his face. His expression was just as blank. 

Draco was facing the trio still, so you turned towards them too. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, really - open loathing perhaps - but all three of them were fixing you with odd expressions, Hermione most of all. 

Then they turned and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :0


	73. Choices

A great crash came from below, and Draco hugged you closer to him as the sounds of fighting and jets of light grew closer and closer to you. Voldemort hadn’t needed you and Draco to find a way to let them in after all - the Death Eaters had pierced the castle’s defenses. 

The floor rumbled beneath your feet, shaking your bodies, and the stones on the wall shook too, letting dust spill to the ground as they rubbed together. A scream echoed through the hall below you. It was somehow even more bone-chilling than Crabbe and Goyle’s dying screams had been - it was stained with such pure despair that you felt your eyes welling with tears, your heartbeat quickening. 

You turned around just in time to see a chunk of railing fall off the stairway to your left, and the floor kept shaking, and you knew all at once that you could not stay here, that you had to join the fight below or the ground beneath your feet would give out.

Draco took your hand, and you followed him towards the staircase, hoping you could make it down before it completely fell apart. The smell of fire still hung heavy in the air, and it crackled with electricity as the sounds of people duelling echoed throughout the castle.

Another chunk of the railing gave out just as you put your hand on it, and you screamed, backing away, running into Draco, who kept running down the stairs, dragging you behind him. 

The sixth floor was a mess. Hexes and jinxes were flying everywhere, part of the ceiling had collapsed down the hall, and someone was still screaming in despair - one of the Weasleys. He and Ron were bent over a body on the ground, Harry and Hermione standing over them. All their faces looked white, horrified. 

“No - no - Fred -” Ron stuttered out, and it hit you at once that it was one of his brothers lying there on the ground. Dead. You felt like you were seeing something that you weren’t supposed to, like you were infecting a moment that should have been pure, should have been just for them. 

But other people were duelling in between you, people you recognized from the Order of the Phoenix and people you recognized as having been sat around the Malfoys’ dining room table as Voldemort tortured you.

You were about to rush forward and join the fray when someone’s spell bounced off a wall and careened into the ceiling, the only part of the ceiling that hadn’t yet fallen. It cracked, splintering, spreading like a web through the stone. 

Draco grabbed you, backing you up, and you were tempted to yell a warning to the rest of the people in the hall, but you couldn’t, not without risking your own life. You turned heel and ran, ducking around a corner. 

You heard the stone hit the ground, felt the massive shock beneath your feet, but you couldn’t stop. You listened to see if anyone was screaming, but you didn’t hear anything as you and Draco made your way further into the castle. 

There was no way to escape the fighting, though. There were Death Eaters, Vampires, Werewolves - every person, every beast that Voldemort had recruited to his army, was swarming the castle. Then there was the Order, and the students, and wizards that you had seen in passing at King’s Cross, determination writ on their every feature as they took on their formidable foes.

You tried to help them when you could - shooting hexes at their opponents as you and Draco sprinted by them, weaving in between them. You found yourself wondering if Luna was here somewhere and hoping she would be alright. And Dean. Sweet Dean. 

And Harry, Ron, and Hermione, of course - but they had to be alright. You didn’t allow yourself to think the opposite, not for a second. They had to be okay, and they would end this. 

You rounded a corner expecting to come across more duelling pairs, but instead, you saw a student’s body slumped in the hallway, the yellow lining of his robes standing out against the dust on the floor. 

The corridor was empty save for his body and the man standing over it, who turned to you, his face stained with blood and a predatory smile that reminded you of Umbridge. You knew him, had seen him before around the dining room at Malfoy Manor. Yaxley. 

“And who do we have here?” He drawled, stepping over the body on the floor. He raised his wand at you. 

“Draco Malfoy. You know me. I’m on your side,” Draco said, not bothering to disguise the notes of pleading in his voice. He didn’t have a wand anymore - he had dropped his mother’s in the Room of Requirement - so yours was the only weapon you had between you. 

“On my side?” Yaxley said, taking another step towards you. His eyes surveyed Draco, then moved to you. He sneered. “You don’t bloody well act like it, do you, prancing around with that blood-traitor.”

You willed Draco to let it go, not to say anything stupid. 

“She’s on our side too,” he said.

Yaxley’s features hardened into a twisted sneer. He barked out a laugh, but it was clear he didn’t find the situation humorous at all. 

You found yourself remembering the face he had made as you and Draco stumbled up from the ground after Voldemort tortured you in front of everyone. _Let us applaud for young love,_ Voldemort had said, and Yaxley had jeered at you. 

Before that, when Voldemort had asked what to do with you, how to punish you, his words were the ones that made your blood run cold. _Kill her, the filthy blood-traitor._

“I think…” Yaxley trailed off, clearly having fun toying with you, “... you’re lying.”

Draco held up his hands, his eyes darting every which way. “Please, I swear it.” His voice sounded small, weak. 

Yaxley raised his eyebrows at Draco’s empty hands. “No wand, Malfoy? So you two are defenseless, then. Just as well. I would’ve liked a fight, but it’ll be quicker this way.”

He took one more step closer to you, his wand stabbing the air, and he opened his mouth to say something. 

But your wand was in the air before he could, your rage at everything he had done to you, everything he had stood by and let happen, rushing through your head and out of your mouth. _So you two are defenseless, then_ , he had said, as if Draco was your only hope.

 _“Crucio,”_ you growled, almost surprised at yourself. But you weren’t - not really. You wanted him to know how it felt for you, twisting on the ground in agony as he had looked on, as he had done nothing. 

You wanted him to know how it was for you, locked up in that Manor, how it was for all the students in the castle who were risking their lives to stop him, how it was for Draco, who never had a real choice, how it was for the Hufflepuff boy whose name you didn’t know, lying dead in the hallway behind you. 

You _meant_ it.

Yaxley screamed in anguish, his body crumpling, and you kept your wand pointed at him on the ground. 

Then Draco’s screams joined his - but he was yelling _something,_ words, pushing at you, trying to get between you and Yaxley on the ground. You looked up at him for a second, breaking the spell. Yaxley’s screams turned into small cries.

Draco was breathing heavily, his eyes wild, and you realized that his hand was on your shoulder, pushing you back. 

“Don’t use those spells!” He shouted, distress thinning his voice. “Not you.”

You stared at him, your eyes suddenly welling up with tears as you realized what you had done. Your face crumpled, and he pulled you into him, his hand on the back of your head as he tried to soothe you even though he was shaking. 

“Not you,” he repeated, and you took a ragged breath, relieved to find that the overpowering scent of fire was fading.

But all at once, you felt him tense, his hand leaving your back, gasping as he moved backwards. You whirled around to see Yaxley on his feet, wand out, violent rage contorting his face as he stumbled towards you and pointed his wand. 

You knew you wouldn’t be fast enough, saw his mouth open again. 

_“Avada -”_ he started, and you only had a second to feel the overpowering fear of death well up in your chest for the second time tonight before another voice rang across the hall. 

_“Stupefy!”_

Yaxley froze, his stiff body falling through the air as if in slow motion, his eyes the only thing he could still move. 

Sebastian was standing at the end of the hallway behind him, his hair sticking out at odd angles, a crooked grin hanging off his face. Your heart swelled so much you were afraid it might burst. 

Everything else forgotten, you ran to him, and he lifted you into his arms. 

“I missed you,” you whispered to him, and he set you down, looking you over. 

“You look a right mess.”

You were sure you did - dust from the ceiling falling was wiped all over your face, your hair was still damp and matted from sweat, your robes were charred from the fire. You hugged Sebastian again. 

“Where have you been?” He asked quietly. 

“We weren’t allowed to leave after what happened at the Manor,” you said, guessing that the attack would be old news now.

He nodded. “That’s what we figured. You alright?”

 _We._ Your thoughts turned to the others as you nodded. You could get into the specifics later, but for now, it was enough for him to know that you had survived, that you were still here, still you. 

Draco came up behind you, and you felt his arm wrap around your waist. You smiled slightly to yourself - you weren’t sure whether Draco would ever honestly believe that you and Sebastian had been operating entirely platonically for six years now. 

“Thanks,” Draco said. Sebastian looked a little awkward, then nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Tracey and Simon?” You asked, watching his face for any signs of sadness. 

“They’re here. They were just behind me - Simon got caught up with some guy in the hallway who was firing hexes every which way.” Your eyes widened, concerned, but Simon shook his head. “Don’t worry, he wasn't any good. Just fucking annoying.”

As if to prove his point, two figures emerged from the end of the hallway. Tracey’s hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, and you were amused to see that she had done her makeup for the battle. Simon’s robes had a massive tear in them, but other than that, they both looked unscathed. 

“It was _my_ spell that -” Tracey was saying, but Simon interrupted. 

“No, it bloody well wasn't!” He shouted. 

“Guys,” Sebastian said, and they looked up, eyes widening comically when they saw you. 

Tracey practically apparated to you, throwing her arms around you and lifting you even higher than Sebastian had. Simon was a little more reluctant, especially because Draco was standing right next to you, but he hugged you tightly.

“We were trying to get to the Astronomy Tower,” Tracey explained as you broke apart, “We figured that would be the best place to be - we could just hex anyone who came up the stairs.”

“We can’t get there, not unless we go around the back of the castle,” Draco said. “The ceiling’s collapsed back that way.”

“Well, shit,” Sebastian said, his grin dropping.

“I suppose we could just hide out in this corridor?” Simon suggested, but you shook your head. 

“No, the tower was a good idea. We could just use the Divination Tower instead.”

Tracey grinned. “Big brain on this one. Let’s go.”

And so it was decided. You thought since your friends had come this way, there might be less fighting in the corridors behind them. You were wrong. Screams and jinxes bounced every which way; the floor creaked beneath your feet; you had to step over so many bodies - some still stirring, breathing, some glazed and frozen - that you stopped trying to identify them. 

You kept trying to subtly disarm and stun the people on Voldemort’s side as Draco held you back with a stern gaze. He had hissed in your ear to remind you that if Voldemort won and someone told the Dark Lord that they saw you fighting a Death Eater, you would unquestionably be tortured to death. 

It didn’t feel like the time was right to tell him that you were not going to return to the Shrieking Shack no matter what happened - you couldn’t force him to make such a big decision in the heat of battle as the walls felt like they were crumbling around you. 

But when two Death Eaters emerged from the end of the hall, there was no way you were going to flatten your back to the wall and let them fight by themselves.

You raised your wand, and your friends raised their wands beside you, and the Death Eaters chuckled between themselves. You had never seen one of them before, and only vaguely recognized the other one. You wondered if either of them knew you. 

_“Stupefy!”_ Tracey shouted, then, as her target jumped out of the way of her spell - “fuck me, why is he so agile?”

Sebastian barked a laugh, casting something wordlessly, and the other Death Eater clutched his right arm as it gave way with a sickening pop.

“Alright, Sebastian!” Tracey cheered. 

_“Stupefy!”_ She said again, and the Death Eater froze, his hand still on his arm. It was four-on-one now, and you could feel Draco’s presence above you. You breathed easier, knowing that he would step in if he had to. Or at least you hoped he would.

“Why don’t you switch up a little, Tracey?” Sebastian joked, “Try an _Expelliarmus_ or something? You’re a one-note wonder, all these fucking _Stupefys.”_

It all seemed to happen at once. 

The ceiling gave an awful creaking noise, and Simon’s eyes moved upwards. Tracey turned to face Sebastian, ready to give him a witty comeback, amused annoyance written all over her face. Sebastian turned towards her, too, a grin, and you looked over at them for a second, realizing too late that none of you were looking at the man you were fighting. 

You heard him start the spell and whipped around, knowing as you turned that there was no way you could stop it from happening, but you _had to,_ you had to. 

The green light shot through the air, and you watched as Simon’s head snapped back, his eyes widening and his shoulders curling inwards in shock as he realized what was about to happen. 

Tracey never noticed. 

She didn’t die like Dumbledore, arms outstretched, hanging in the air for a second before plummeting nobly to his end. No, she was just dead, her body hitting the floor, her face frozen in a playful smile. 

You raised your wand no hesitation, outstretched towards the man who killed her. He looked pleased. Nobody else moved.

 _“Avada Kedavra,”_ you yelled, and the Death Eater’s body hit the floor too.

“(Y/N)!” You heard Draco shout from behind you, but you paid no attention to him. 

You were on the ground, next to Tracey, screaming, screaming like Ron had screamed over the body of his brother, and Sebastian was next to you, and Simon next to him, and all you could do was stare at Tracey’s face. 

She looked almost alive - almost like she could be petrified. She was still smiling. But her eyes were glazed, seeing nothing, and she would never see anything again. 

“It’s my fault,” you heard Sebastian whisper from beside you, and you curled into him, wanting to tell him that it wasn't, of course it wasn't, but you didn’t trust your voice to work. 

The whole castle could have crumbled, the whole world, and it wouldn’t matter. You felt Simon get up beside you, yelling something, and you assumed there must be other people in the hallway. You didn’t know what side they were on, and you supposed you didn’t care either way. 

Draco replaced Simon next to you, and his arms wrapped around your body. You struggled against him, your tears soaking into his shirt, into his skin. The slight smell of fire still lingered on him, and you tried to push him away, clawing at him. 

He held you still. 

You weren’t sure if you had ever heard Sebastian cry before, but there was no mistaking the sobs leaving his mouth as he continued to whisper to himself that it was his fault. 

Eventually, you stopped fighting, letting Draco hold you. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him tightly to you. 

“If you had let me fight earlier,” you cried into his ear, “If you had let me, it wouldn’t have happened. She would still be here - she would still be here, and I wouldn’t be such a coward, and - if I could have just… If you had just let me…”

He combed his fingers through your hair. “I know,” he said, so soft, “I know.”

Sebastian stood up after a while, and you heard him talking to Simon, but you didn’t bother listening to what they were saying. You didn’t even care that Draco still smelled a bit like the fire now - you would much rather be in the Room of Requirement again than be here, huddled on the floor of the cold hallway, knowing that Tracey’s body was right beside you. 

It felt wrong, the way her face was frozen. She had always been the most vibrant one of all of you, the one most easily provoked, never caring what anyone else thought, contradicting herself with glee, decorating her plain robes with colorful jewelry. 

Even in death, it seemed like she should be laughing, crying, yelling something at you. You couldn’t bear to see her face again, so you let Draco pick you up, clinging onto him as walked a ways away from her. 

You could hear snippets of Simon and Sebastian’s conversation. 

“Someone needs… to move her,” Simon said quietly, and Sebastian let out a sob. 

“I don’t think I can,” Sebastian said after a while, his voice weaker than you had ever heard it before. 

“I don’t think I can either,” Simon said back. 

You wished you couldn’t hear them at all. 

“We can’t leave her.”

“No. We can’t.”

It was so adult. You could hear the utter despair in both their voices, the self-blaming. But they were still logical, still thinking, still going on. You felt like you could never leave this hallway again. You might have to stay here until the end of time, rooted to the spot, because if you went without Tracey, that would mean that Tracey was never coming back. 

“Let’s not use magic,” Sebastian said, speaking slowly, like he had to come to terms with every word that came out of his mouth. 

“Yeah,” Simon breathed, “let’s not.”

You heard their footsteps, Sebastian’s groans as he tried to get himself to stop crying, little utterances of _it was my fault, all of it_ and _no it wasn't, you weren’t the one who looked up._

But you didn’t dare look up at them. You didn’t want to see any of it. You buried your face in Draco’s chest in the middle of the hallway. He didn’t move his hands, didn’t try to soothe you the way he usually did. He just kept his arms wrapped tightly around you, anchoring you to him. 

And eventually, there was silence. 

Until another voice sounded - a voice that you knew all too well, a voice that had been used to torture you, to carve symbols into your back, to terrorize you and the rest of the wizarding world alike. Lord Voldemort was speaking. 

“You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately. You have one hour.”

You surfaced from Draco’s chest at last. You knew that the Dark Lord was simply projecting his voice, that he was not in the corridor with you now, but you felt his presence seep into you all the same, reminding you of the divide between you and the boy who was holding you. 

Draco released you, grabbing your hand, and started walking through the halls with purpose. 

“No,” you said, “I don’t want to leave the castle.”

He regarded you, softening. “The Divination Tower’s just here. We’ll go up there for a little while,” he said, and you nodded, not ready to tell him that you wouldn’t be leaving the castle at all tonight, no matter how much time he gave you. 

Voldemort continued speaking as you walked down the hallway and up the staircase that you hadn’t used since fifth year. It felt like centuries ago. 

If it weren’t for the state of destruction that it was currently in, you would guess the Divination classroom hadn’t changed at all since the last time you’d been there. The floor was still lined with colorful rugs - but now it was decorated with broken glass where crystal balls had fallen off shelves. 

You sat down on a bench, thankful for the cushion beneath you, and put your head in your hands. You leaned into Draco’s side, and he absentmindedly rubbed your palm with his thumb. Patterns. 

He was waiting for you, letting you have time before you left the castle and went to the Shrieking Shack. You could tell that it was probably eating him up inside, the knowledge that you were supposed to have gone already, that Voldemort would be expecting you, that you would likely be punished and further ostracized as not being truly loyal even if you did go. 

But you weren’t truly loyal - you weren’t loyal at all, not to Voldemort. 

You supposed you couldn’t keep waiting. 

“Draco,” you started, and he turned towards you - you and your matted hair, your ripped, charred clothes, your dirty face. 

“What I meant was… I’m not leaving the castle at all. I know we’re supposed to go to him now, but… I can’t. I can’t fight against my friends anymore. I think I’ve always known that it would come to this, and you have too, and we’ve just prolonged everything because neither of us wanted to say it. I still don’t want to say it. I still don’t want to lose you. But my loyalties are here, Draco. In the castle. I’m not leaving.”

His shoulders hung low, his eyes downcast. He looked more defeated than you had ever seen him. 

“Yeah,” he spoke softly, “I did know. I always knew.”

“Yeah,” you replied, not sure what else to say. 

“I don’t want it to be over,” he whispered. 

“It doesn’t have to be. You could - you could stay here with me.” You were aware of the pleading tone in your voice, but you couldn’t stop it. 

He looked up at you mournfully, and you realized that he was crying. You felt tears start falling from your own eyes too. You had thought that you were about to lose him so many times tonight - running through the halls of the castle, clinging onto each other in the Room of Requirement, Yaxley’s wand pointing right between his eyes. 

You would rather go back to any of those moments than face this one. It wasn't Fiendfyre or Death Eaters separating you now. It was the weight of your own emotions, and his family’s history, the knowledge that you were about to lose each other forever.

Because you saw on his face what he was going to do before he said a word. 

You saw it in the way his shoulders slumped, heavy. You saw it in the way he seemed afraid to meet your eyes but was looking at them all the same, as if he was trying to memorize them.

You saw it in the way he stood up, like he was tearing himself away from something and promising to never come back. 

He looked down at you. You stood up too, meeting his eyes. You faced each other as the first hint of sunlight hit the horizon, as the hour Voldemort had given you to come back to him slowly fell away. 

You faced each other as Simon and Sebastian carried Tracey’s body into the Great Hall, as the Room of Requirement burned behind its hidden door, as people screamed and despaired and licked their wounds, as the shards of glass that had once been crystal balls glinted on the ground of the Divination Tower. 

“I love you,” he said, but it was an apology. What he meant was _goodbye._

“I love you too,” you replied. _Goodbye._

“I always have,” Draco said, his gaze trailing from your face to the window, looking out towards the grounds, out towards the Shrieking Shack where Voldemort stood with Lucius beside him. It was only the second time he had ever said it to you. 

“Don’t draw it out,” you said.

He nodded. Looked back at you. 

“It’s true,” he said, his hand reaching out to touch you almost imperceptibly, then thinking better of it. 

“I know.”

You kept standing as you watched him leave. He was slow, picking his way through the glass on the ground and bypassing one of the shelves that had fallen over. You watched him until the last strand of his hair disappeared into the stairwell, then listened until his footsteps faded into complete silence. 

Then you crumpled on the floor, squeezed your eyes shut, and let it wash over you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...


	74. The Final Duel

The stars gleamed cruelly in the night sky. There were no clouds tonight, and you could feel the warmth of the outside air through a broken window to your right. 

You stared at the stars for a while. They were so far away, so far removed from you. A light breeze picked up, and two pieces of glass clinked together on the floor. 

It had been, as best you could guess, around thirty minutes since Draco had left. He was probably in the Shrieking Shack by now, side by side with his father and his master. You wondered whether he had gotten punished for not bringing you with him. 

Things had been coming between you since you first kissed three years ago - big, unignorable things that both of you had spent ages pushing to the deepest depths of your mind. Maybe somewhere inside you, you had always known that this would happen in the end. 

But now that it had happened, you realized you hadn’t ever understood what it would feel like. 

Your whole body felt heavy. Your shoulders hung low, your fingers brushed against the fraying carpets that lined the floor. There was a bit of hair hanging in front of your eyes, blocking part of your vision, but you didn’t feel like summoning the effort to move it. 

You had cried for a while, but the tears had subsided a couple minutes ago, and their remnants were drying on your face, the salt pinching at your skin. 

You knew that the hour that Voldemort had given would soon come to a close, and you shook your head, trying to clear your mind. 

No matter how horrible you felt, you knew you would have to stand up soon, go downstairs and walk into the Great Hall, find Simon and Sebastian and try not to look at Tracey’s body or think about Sadie being missing or wonder where Draco was. 

You would have to push your misery away and do what you stayed in the castle to do, do what you sacrificed Draco to do. Defend it - prove once and for all what side you were on. 

Imbued with a slight edge of determination, you forced yourself to your feet. You turned to stare around the room. You hadn’t taken Divination since fifth year - that made two full school years without it. 

The classroom was in utter despair - the carpets were ripped, crystal balls lay shattered on the floor, at least three windows were broken, the remaining tables and chairs had been knocked over, and the cabinet doors were hanging pitifully off their hinges. 

But if you closed your eyes, you could still picture it perfectly, the way it had been when you were forced to sit in a cushioned chair, staring into the depth of a smoky ball and making up symbols to transcribe. 

You found yourself recalling a particular class from third year. You had no idea why it came to your head, but you remembered it in perfect detail. 

You had been sitting across from Sebastian, who was sporting a nicely cropped haircut, every strand in place. He was grinning wildly, leaning back in his chair, confiding to you that he was probably going to skip next period to go hook up with someone on the fourth floor. 

The image was completely at odds with the last time you had seen him, kneeling over Tracey, muttering in self-blame. He was taller now by at least a couple inches, and he had taken to wearing his hair in sort of a shaggy mane instead of his old perfectly styled close-crop. 

Sebastian had predicted ‘dark trials in your future’ on that day, which had seemed at the time like nothing more than a couple buzz-words that notorious tragedy-lover Trelawney would accept. 

He had also announced that he was seeing a bird in your crystal ball, which, of course, was another product of his mind. 

A bird. 

You remembered the Vanishing Cabinet shaking, Draco’s hand on the golden handle, a little swallow soaring above the Room of Requirement, filling you up with dread. A raven hopping out of a box, Amycus Carrow’s voice in your ear telling you to raise your wand and torture it, Draco’s cold voice as he had stepped in instead. A blue jay, conjured by the boy next to you, cawing at the butterfly on your shoulder. 

Perhaps Sebastian really had seen a bird. 

Of course, Trelawney had yelled at you both and promptly separated you. Sebastian had gone to work with Lavender Brown, and, to your great horror, she had paired you with Draco. 

You remembered the way he had joked with you, how effortlessly he had lied to Trelawney, how easily he had improvised to make your lackluster predictions seem true and right. It was the first time you had allowed yourself to think that he might not be the biggest dick in the school. 

Now the memory just hurt. 

Tracey was flitting at its edges too - she had been in that class with you, but shared her table with Michael Corner. You suddenly felt horrible that you didn’t ever really hang out with Michael - Tracey had been dating him since the end of third year. 

You wondered if he knew yet. 

You couldn’t be in this room anymore, but the thought of leaving it filled you with tangible dread. 

_“You have to,”_ you whispered to yourself, curling your hands into little fists and hitting them softly against your legs as if that would make you move. _“You can’t be a coward anymore.”_

You pushed through the toppled tables, shoes cracking over glass shards, and took one look out the broken window towards the Shrieking Shack before turning towards the narrow staircase and walking down it. 

The hall was empty. You assumed most of the halls would be. The Death Eaters had left the castle, there was nowhere for anyone to be besides in the Great Hall, tending to the dead. The thought made you shudder, but you steeled yourself. 

The time for leaving yourself uninvolved was over. It had been over for a very long while. 

But you still weren’t prepared for the scene that greeted you when you walked through the doorway. The house tables had been pushed to the side, and a crowd of people in various states of grief stood in their wake. 

Some people were screaming, some were sobbing, some were silent. Some were holding others, some were holding themselves, arms wrapped around their own shaky torsos. 

You tried not to look at the bodies as you made your way through the hall. You would feel guilty infringing on others’ sadness. It was not your place to mourn these people. You couldn’t miss the Weasleys, though, blazing red hair, standing over the same body you had seen Ron and Percy with on the sixth floor hours ago. 

One of the twins. You felt a stab of shame in your stomach - you could never tell them apart, but you felt like you should now, like it was unfair that someone was lying dead in front of you and you weren’t sure of their name. 

You ripped your eyes away, but instead they landed on Professor Lupin. You froze, tears stinging your nose at once. You hadn’t expected yourself to have such a reaction to the man - you hadn’t spoken to him since third year, hadn’t seen him since you caught a glimpse of him fighting Rowle on the night of the Astronomy Tower. 

As Sebastian had put it once “he was a Gryffindor _and _a werewolf,” but you found yourself thinking that he was one of the best professors you ever had. Lying next to him was a younger girl, her hair a curious shade of pink. You had never met her in your life, but she seemed like she was far too vibrant to be dead.__

__You forced your eyes to tear away, letting a tear fall down your cheek as you recalled the way that he had spoken as he taught, the way he roamed around the classroom, making sure everyone knew what was going on, everyone understood._ _

__Tracey had not-so-secretly fancied him the whole year, going on and on about how hot his scars were. For a moment, you smiled at the thought._ _

__Then you saw her._ _

__Tracey’s body was lying near one of the tables, and Simon was sitting at it, staring into the distance with a faraway look. Sebastian was standing over her, his eyes fixed on her face. He was trembling, in those late stages of crying when you feel like maybe you’ll never be able to stop._ _

__You joined them silently with a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder, moving it slowly, soothingly across his back. He gave in with a sob, curling his head around and pulling you into him. He rested his cheek against the top of your head, shaking against you._ _

__You weren’t sure who was comforting who. Maybe you were both comforting each other, maybe neither of you were doing anything at all. You didn’t trust yourself to look down at Tracey, so you didn’t. You just kept your arms around his shoulders, let him keep his arms around your waist._ _

__When you broke apart, Simon was standing up, looking towards the other end of the hall._ _

__“Here he is,” he said, and you turned to see Michael Corner wandering through the tables, a concerned look on his face. He hadn’t looked towards you yet._ _

__You weren’t sure if you could take it, seeing his despair, when it was sure to remind you of your own, but you felt that it would be too selfish to leave now, so you stayed, leaning into Sebastian’s side._ _

__Simon stood up too, coming to stand on your other side. You offered your hand to him, and he took it. You thought about saying something, but it would be stupid._ _

__You watched as Michael’s eyes absentmindedly flicked over to where you were standing. He looked away for a second, then looked back. His body froze, eyes widening in horror as his gaze shifted downwards, down to where Tracey was lying._ _

__You steeled yourself and looked down too._ _

__Her hair was still up in her ponytail, her makeup was still on her face. Someone had closed her eyes. She could be asleep, but she wasn't. Her face had gone slack, no longer frozen in a smile. It had felt wrong earlier, that she would be smiling in death, but it felt even worse now that she wasn't anymore._ _

__When you looked up again, Michael was in front of you._ _

__“What - what did-” his voice was weak, spindly, broken with despair._ _

__Simon separated his hand from yours and took a step forward, saying something to Michael in hushed tones. You didn’t try to make out his words - you didn’t want to hear them. You curled into Sebastian again._ _

__Simon was always the strongest one, the smartest one, no matter how lazy he was. He knew what to do, even if he rarely did it. But tonight - for the past year, really - he had been doing it. Sadie would be proud._ _

__You started crying again._ _

__“I think I loved her,” Sebastian whispered into you, and you looked up at him mournfully._ _

__“You don’t mean that,” you answered, “You’re just sad.”_ _

__He nodded. “Yeah, I know.”_ _

__There was a minute where the rest of the mourners and healers seemed to fall quiet, like the world itself was holding it breath as Sebastian held you, as Michael knelt over Tracey’s body, as Simon stood above him, trying his best to be the strong one._ _

__It was broken, as many beautiful things had been, by the voice of the Dark Lord._ _

__“Harry Potter is dead,” he rasped, his voice drifting through the Great Hall and all the hallways in the castle, echoing through the walls. Voldemort had never been one to mince words. “He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself as you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone.”_ _

__Voldemort continued to speak, but you were no longer listening. Harry, who had represented your last, most desperate bit of hope, was gone. You knew how many beings stood in Voldemort’s army firsthand - far more people than those standing in the Great Hall now._ _

__There was no chance._ _

__You considered running, considered grabbing Simon and Sebastian and leaving, saving yourselves. But you couldn’t imagine doing that, not really, not at the end. You couldn’t leave Tracey’s body in the Great Hall and not fight for what she had died for._ _

__It would be cowardly to run._ _

__The morning sunlight was blinding. You were still holding onto Sebastian as if you couldn’t move without him, and he was doing the same to you. You leaned against each other as you made your way out of the castle, Michael and Simon behind you._ _

__You caught sight of Ron and Hermione looking equally confused and horrified. _Surely_ Harry would’ve told them his plan, would’ve told them if he was leaving the castle. _ _

__Surely the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, could not be dead._ _

__Ginny Weasley’s scream said otherwise. You breathed in sharply as his name left her mouth, watched as someone came up behind her and grabbed her, pulling her back as she tried to run at Voldemort, to curse him herself._ _

__Ron and Hermione were screaming too, and McGonagall, and everyone was, of course they were. Their savior was lying in Hagrid’s arms, slumped over. Dead._ _

__You let out a little sob yourself. You felt Simon’s hand searching for yours and took it, gripping hard. He and Sebastian were all you had left now, the only two._ _

__You commanded yourself not to scan the crowd of Death Eaters, not to try to look for Draco, but you couldn’t stop yourself. It should have been easy - always the hair - but the only people with his silvery color were Lucius and Narcissa, standing at the front of the crowd, looking tired and fraught._ _

__Perhaps he was standing behind them. You looked away._ _

__“Put him at my feet, where he belongs,” Voldemort rasped, spreading his arms wide for the crowd as if he would like nothing more than to be the center of attention, as if he was feeding on their grief and hatred._ _

__Hagrid did as he was told, a tear dripping down his face._ _

__Harry lay lifeless on the ground._ _

__Bellatrix laughed her long, loud, demented laugh, and Voldemort smiled in that languid, snake-like way of his. The Death Eaters erupted in applause, drowning out the crying and screaming echoing from all around you._ _

__Lucius and Narcissa were the only ones who remained silent, their eyes downcast. Had Voldemort punished Draco? Is that why they weren’t celebrating?_ _

__Voldemort held up his hand, and the crowd went silent at once. You couldn’t tell whether he had used a Silencing Charm or whether they just knew by now to do as they were told immediately._ _

__“But all is not lost for you, oh no,” Voldemort spoke again, “The Dark Lord is nothing if not merciful. Join me now, cross the threshold, all those of you whose blood is pure… and I will show you what it means to be a servant of the greatest wizard of all time.”_ _

__Nobody moved. Voldemort did not seem deterred in the slightest._ _

__“Come to me now, and I will show you mercy. I will welcome you…” he spread his arms wide once more, “...with open arms. If you choose to stay where you are, you will die where you stand.”_ _

__Again, nobody moved. Simon’s hand tightened around you, and Sebastian exhaled shakily. Your eyes still searched the crowd for Draco. _You will die where you stand._ If Tracey could do it, if Harry could do it, you would too. Now was not the time to fear death. Now was the time to be calm, to know that this was right. _ _

__Pansy had already gone - she and Blaise must have joined Voldemort in the Shrieking Shack earlier as Draco had, because they were already standing in the crowd of Death Eaters. Blaise’s expression was completely blank, as if his eyes weren’t seeing anything at all. Pansy looked small._ _

__“Ah,” Voldemort said, “But some of you already belong to me. (Y/N)... come join your master.”_ _

__The crowd shifted, and it felt like dozens of eyes were scorching holes into your skin. Your eyes widened. You had thought that you would be able to blend into the crowd, that his punishment would come later if he won, wouldn’t come at all if he lost._ _

__Voldemort stared at you with his reptilian eyes, his purple veins standing out against his ghost-like form._ _

__Simon let go of your hand, and Sebastian took an almost imperceptible step away from you. They were letting you walk away, letting you cross the threshold if you needed to. They knew what it meant now - your life._ _

__But you had already made your decision tonight. You stepped forward, walking through the crowd until you were standing at its front, shoulder-to-shoulder with Neville Longbottom. You glanced at his determined frame, marvelling at how far he had come since you had given him his first kiss in third year._ _

__You wondered if he remembered that. If he ever thought of you._ _

__He was refusing to look at you now. You took another step forward so that you emerged completely from the crowd. Voldemort’s eyes narrowed._ _

__“Come forth, my child. You did not return to me, but you will join me now.”_ _

__The sun was getting higher in the sky, the rubble in the courtyard staining everyone’s faces with blood. You kept scanning the crowd of Death Eaters, looking for Draco. You just needed to see that he was alright, that he was whole, before the Dark Lord inevitably killed you._ _

__But he turned away from you, his eyes moving over the crowd of Hogwarts students and landing on someone in the back._ _

__“You _both_ will. I was wondering where you were, I must confess,” Voldemort said, but he wasn't talking to you. You whipped around, following his gaze…_ _

__“It is a rarity, finding one of you without the other,” Voldemort continued, “And today you will join me together, as you did once before.”_ _

__Your eyes landed on a head of blond hair. _No._ You had been looking in the wrong crowd for him all this time. He hadn’t left the castle? Then where…_ _

__You realized as the word hung in the air beside you that you had said “no” out loud, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that he hadn’t left, that he was here. He hadn’t gone to the shack, hadn’t gone to his family, hadn’t gone to the Dark Lord._ _

__You were already moving towards him, forcing the crowd to part with the force of your pursuit, and he was doing the same. You met in the middle, and you stared up at him in marvel, trying to make out what had happened by the look on his face._ _

__He nodded at you, grabbed your arm, and walked with you back to the front of the crowd._ _

__There you stood, in front of the crowd of students, in front of the only two friends you had left, in front of Draco’s family, gaunt and slumped, in front of the darkest wizard the world had ever seen._ _

__He took your hand. A breeze picked up, blowing your hair out of your face._ _

__“Yes,” Voldemort rasped, “Come to me.”_ _

__“Draco,” Narcissa called across the courtyard, her eyes shining with tears, “Please.”_ _

__Lucius reached towards his son too. Draco stared at his parents for a second, as if he was memorizing them for the last time. The same look he had given you in the Divination Tower an hour ago - a century ago._ _

__You squeezed his hand as you both stared down the Dark Lord, whose eyes were quickly narrowing._ _

__Draco looked towards you, and you met his gaze, eyes blazing. He kept eye contact for a second more, then you both stepped back into the crowd._ _

__You had both chosen your side now._ _

__Voldemort straightened, rage flashing in his eyes. He pointed his wand towards you, and Draco stepped in front of you, and someone screamed, and he opened his mouth - and then total chaos broke out._ _

__Because Harry’s dead body leapt up, his wand - Draco’s wand - raised defiantly. And then there was the sound of a crowd, and you looked into the distance to see what must have been hundreds of people running past the gates, headed by Slughorn and one of the Weasley brothers._ _

__Nagini surged forward, teeth bared, tongue flicking - and the sound of metal scraping metal filled the air as Neville Longbottom unsheathed a sword that looked like the one that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been carrying in Malfoy Manor. With one great slash, he sliced off the snake’s head._ _

__Voldemort roared in rage, such great rage that your body shook, and Draco’s arms were around you, shielding you, trying to pull you away from the courtyard, back into the castle._ _

__You fought against him._ _

__“No! We have to stay, we have to fight, we have to!”_ _

__All around you, fighting broke out as the Death Eaters met the students and the reinforcements that were pouring into the courtyard. You fired off a spell at Macnair, stupefying him, and Hagrid picked up his frozen body and threw him across the room._ _

__Arrows rained down on the Death Eaters as the centaurs entered the fray, and Greyback gave a great yell as Neville and Ron stood facing him, their wands pointed at his neck._ _

__“DRACO!” A woman’s voice called, and you turned around to see Narcissa running through the fray. Lucius followed her. They weren’t attempting to fight - they no longer cared whether Voldemort won or not. You suspected they hadn’t for a while._ _

__They just needed their son to be safe._ _

__Draco embraced his mother, holding onto her, and Lucius loomed above him with a love he was capable of giving only to the two of them._ _

__You heard a growl, and whipped around to see Yaxley making his way towards you, limping slightly._ _

__“Time to finish the job,” he shouted, raising his wand at you. Anger ripped through your body._ _

__“I suppose it is,” you said, raising your wand as well._ _

__The air crackled with electricity around you as Yaxley sent spell after spell at you - some nonverbal, some not. _Protego, protego, protego_ you repeated in your head, letting him tire himself out a bit. _ _

__As soon as he paused, you were on the offensive._ _

___“Acuminis!”_ You directed the Stinging Jinx at the leg he had been limping on. It was the right decision - he keeled over, shooting a badly-aimed spell at you that you ducked with no effort. _ _

___“Expelliarmus!”_ He managed to bat your spell away, but you were growing closer to him now, and he couldn’t stand. _ _

___“Expelliarmus!”_ You yelled again, and he put up a shield just in time. _ _

___“Crucio!”_ He shouted, an edge of desperation to his voice, and you stepped aside, letting the spell hit the ground behind you, sending up a bit of dust. _ _

___“Stupefy!”_ He blocked it. _ _

__You growled, moving closer to him. You prowled around each other, both wary of the next spell. The idea came to you quickly - it was a bit of a desperate plan, but you didn’t care. You had to distract him and finish the job as quickly as you could._ _

__You sneered at him. You had already killed one Death Eater tonight._ _

___“Expelliarmus!”_ You shouted, trying to distract him. It worked. He leered at you, batting it away and opening his mouth to send a countercurse back at you. _ _

__Your foot shot out and kicked him in the shin of his injured leg. Surprised, he looked downwards, his wand hand lowering the slightest bit._ _

___“Stupefy,”_ you hissed, and he wasn't fast enough to block it. He was frozen. _“Expelliarmus.”__ _

__You stood above him for a second, breathing out. You looked around, making sure there was nobody coming to his aid, and your eyes fell on Molly Weasley, locked in battle with Bellatrix. You raised your eyebrows, watching as she yelled something._ _

__Bellatrix threw her head back in a laugh, and you knew her mistake before she did. Molly’s spell caught her in the chest, and her body was stiff, and she fell to the floor._ _

__You rounded on Yaxley, not daring to take any chances, feeling your insides light up with the knowledge that one of the most evil people you had ever met was dead._ _

__You looked at Yaxley’s wand in your hand. It was shorter than yours, made of dark wood with carvings at the hilt. You felt Draco’s hand on your shoulder and looked up at him._ _

__“Please don’t,” he said. Lucius and Narcissa were no longer near you. But Draco had stayed._ _

__“Don’t what?”_ _

__“Don’t kill him.”_ _

__You looked back at Yaxley, who was still frozen on the ground. Screams and cracks rang out from all around you as the battle continued._ _

__“He deserves it,” you said softly, pointing your wand at him. “He deserves to die this way.”_ _

__“Yes,” Draco said simply, “but you don’t deserve having to use another Unforgivable to make it so. Not when I’ve kept you from having to use them all year.”_ _

__You nodded. You would ask him about that later - ask him about _everything_ later. You took Yaxley’s wand in your hands and snapped it, watching his eyes widen with horror. The only part of him that could still move. _ _

__You threw the pieces at his feet. Your charm would wear off at some point, but by then the battle would be over and your fate would be sealed regardless of what Yaxley tried to do. And there wasn't a lot he could do to you without a wand._ _

__“You won’t be killing anyone else tonight!” You heard Harry’s voice ring clearly throughout the courtyard, and looked around to see that much of the fighting was done. Relief that he was alive washed over you anew._ _

__The Death Eaters were either dead, escaped, or licking their wounds in shadowy corners. With Bellatrix, his last great ally, dead, Voldemort seemed more alone than ever. But even - and perhaps especially - alone, the Dark Lord was of paramount danger to anyone who crossed his path._ _

__You watched them duel, yelling at each other, Harry talking about his mother and sacrifice and things you weren’t sure you quite understood, like dying in the forest. Voldemort answered him with cruel taunts about Dumbledore’s death, mocking him for believing that love had any true power in the world._ _

__The crowd watched, entranced, duels quieting as Death Eater after Death Eater was defeated. Voldemort grew more haggard, more desperate as they continued yelling to each other, circling each other._ _

__“Try for some remorse, Riddle…” Harry said, eyes blazing._ _

__Voldemort laughed outright._ _

__You looked up at Draco to see that he wasn't watching at all. He was looking out past the courtyard, past the fallen bridge. Towards the lake, the edge of the forest. You heard footsteps grow nearer to you, and looked around to see Simon and Sebastian standing on your other side._ _

__Sebastian had a giant gash across his face that was dripping blood, and the tear in Simon’s robes had finally split them into two. They looked at you with odd expressions on their faces - you weren’t sure you would ever be able to put them into words._ _

__Draco wrapped his arm around your back absentmindedly, and you leaned into his side. The smell of the fire had completely disappeared off him. He just smelled like himself again._ _

__Sebastian grabbed your free hand and you squeezed it. Simon walked behind you, resting his chin on your head._ _

__You knew then, even though Harry and Voldemort were still circling each other, that Harry would win. You would never be able to explain it, but as the Dark Lord’s wand arched through the air, his own spell rebounding against him, you felt as if this moment had been coming for a long time, as if you had dreamed it years ago and let the memory fall into your subconscious mind._ _

__People were cheering, yelling, crowding around the Boy Who Lived. Delirious celebration. It was as if a cloud had passed over the sun long ago, and all at once it had dissipated._ _

__The dead had been moved from the Great Hall. There would be time later - lifetimes, really - to mourn them. But, for now, as Peeves sailed over the Great Hall singing some rhyming couplet about Voldemort’s death, people were tentatively sitting at the tables, laughing, raising glasses._ _

__You couldn’t bring yourself to celebrate. Draco grabbed your hand as you walked through the Great Hall, stopping you._ _

__“Do you want to go somewhere?” He asked, and you nodded._ _

__You weren’t sure how you found yourself on the Astronomy Tower, but it felt somehow fitting._ _

__You remembered the way Draco’s wand had shaken, how you knew that he would have refused to do it if the rest of the Death Eaters hadn’t shown up. _Try for some remorse, Riddle_ , Harry had said to Voldemort, and it was never more clear what an obvious difference there was between the Dark Lord and Draco Malfoy. _ _

__He was by no means perfect. He was, as you had always known - unkind, unfriendly, barely good. But he had always had remorse. And he had another thing that Voldemort had never understood. Love._ _

__But the Astronomy Tower would forever represent, to the rest of the wizarding world, all of Draco’s worst. And your worst, too. Voldemort lay dead below, but so did Tracey._ _

__“It’s over,” Draco murmured. “It’s all over now.”_ _

__“It isn’t,” you breathed, “She’s dead, and you’re marked. And I might as well be. There will be trials, and people will hate us, and things will never be the same, and -”_ _

__“Shh,” he calmed, and you let out a shaky breath._ _

__He pulled apart from you so that you could look him in the eye, but he kept his hands on your shoulders, steadying you._ _

__“(Y/N),” he said, “He’s gone.”_ _

__You took each other in. Exhausted and muddy and stained._ _

__“Say it,” he said softly, a little smile playing at the corner of his lips. It had been a while since he had asked you._ _

__“I love you,” you said without pause. “Now say it back.”_ _

__“I love you.”_ _

__The war wasn't over, not truly, and you both knew it. There were still a lot more bandages to apply. There would be trials, hatred, horror. Some good things would never be good again, some bad things would become good. The world would go on._ _

__But for now, he was right._ _

__The sun rose to the middle of the sky, shining down with all of its strength. You changed your mind about something - Draco didn’t look better in the moonlight. He looked best right now._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more! but don't worry i'm not going anywhere :) i'm publishing a chapter of something new tomorrow along with the final chapter (!!!) of this. not gonna get sentimental just yet but thank you guys so much for all your comments and kudos and just reading!! means the world to me x


	75. The End

Your trial started in the hallway of the Ministry of Magic, camera bulbs flashing as you tried to keep up with your parents. 

The _Daily Prophet_ seemingly couldn’t get enough of reporting about your relationship with Draco. Headlines like “DARK LOVE” had decorated the front pages alongside pictures of you two together on Platform 9 ¾, accompanied by his parents and two known Death Eaters. 

You had been on house arrest for a month now as the rest of the Death Eaters had gone through their trials - everyone save Narcissa Malfoy had been convicted. The Wizengamot was not as forgiving this time around. 

Lucius had already been brought to his cell - his mugshot was on the front page of the Prophet last week to prove it, and you even got a little mention in the article - “his son and heir, Draco Malfoy, another known Death Eater, will be put on trial next weekend alongside his alleged fiancee. 

It was so easy for them to lie about you. You and Draco weren’t engaged - you hadn’t seen him since the day after the battle. You had no idea how he was feeling about the whole thing. Well, you had some idea: probably not too happy.

At least your parents were being supportive. You hadn’t seen each other for almost two years, so the past month had been spent relearning each other. You hadn’t told them the worst of what had happened to you at the Manor - you didn’t want them to feel guilty for not being there - but they knew the broad strokes. 

Your father had even tried to refrain from his usual tirades against Lucius Malfoy, which, for what it was worth, you appreciated. 

You caught up to them and your mother grabbed your hand as the doors to your courtroom opened. You shot a quick glance at the doors across the hall, where Draco’s trial was already proceeding. The Wizengamot had decided to hold your trials at the same time to prevent collusion. 

You weren’t sure what you could possibly have colluded on, but there was nothing to be done about it. 

So instead, you sat in a chair in the middle of the room - they hadn’t made you stand in the cage, thankfully - and a nicely dressed wizard you had never met before in your life laid out the case against you. 

It was, horrifyingly, nothing short of compelling. He pulled out pictures of you walking with Draco on the Platform, Macnair behind you, his sleeve pulled up to display the Dark Mark. He had a student you had never seen before testify to seeing you follow the Death Eaters out of the castle. 

He pulled out your wand history, cating _Priori Incantatum_ to recall the spells you had used on the night of the Battle of Hogwarts - a _Crucio_ and an _Avada Kedavra._ You gritted your teeth, wanting to yell that you had used those spells on Death Eaters, not students. The gasp that went up in the crowd did not bode well for you. 

Your lawyer, appointed by default by the Wizengamot, did not do a very good job defending you. He ignored the Unforgivable curse uses, choosing instead to propose that Draco had somehow seduced and had you under some sort of _Imperius_ -type spell that forced you to do his bidding. 

Finally, when he outrightly accused Draco of brewing Amortentia to keep you enamored with him, you could no longer keep silent. 

“That’s not true,” you said, and your lawyer spun around in disbelief. You raised your eyebrows at him - the least he could’ve done was consult with you beforehand. 

The head wizard banged his gavel. “Would the defendant like to speak on her behalf?”

You nodded. “Yes, I would. Draco didn’t poison me or cast any spells on me. I did everything I did by choice.”

“Well then it’s obvious!” Someone whispered loudly, “she’s guilty!”

The head wizard banged his gavel again. 

“I never sided with Voldemort. I never hurt anyone. The _Crucio_ and the _Avada_ \- I used those on Death Eaters, I swear it, I used them on Corban Yaxley and Torquin Travers. Sebastian Daley and Simon Dedworth witnessed it.”

“Are they prepared to testify?”

“No,” you shook your head, “They aren’t here, I didn’t think they would need to be - nobody told me anything.”

“Excuse me, if I may,” a woman who looked a bit like Umbridge raised her hand. The head wizard nodded at her. “I suppose… well, she’s already confessed to colluding with Death Eaters and leaving the castle with them on the night of Albus Dumbledore’s death. I don’t think the issue of the construction of her defense is necessarily important when we already have enough to convict.”

A couple of hums of agreement went up. 

The head wizard nodded curtly. “Yes, well, I must say I agree - however, I’m told the defense has prepared witnesses, and we are prohibited from convicting without hearing their statements. If they would step forward now?”

You whirled around, and your jaw dropped when Neville Longbottom entered the courtroom. You looked towards your lawyer, but he looked just as confused. The git. He deserved to be fired. 

Neville stood next to you, but never made eye contact. You sunk back down in your chair. 

“State your name for the record,” the head wizard said. 

“Neville Longbottom, sir,” Neville said, and the quill hovering in the air moved down quickly to scribble something on the parchment.

“And you have a statement prepared?”

“Yes, sir.”

You heard parchment rustling, and looked beside you to see that Neville was unfolding a piece of paper, still neglecting to make eye contact with you. 

“In our fifth year, Harry Potter formed a group known as Dumbledore’s Army to practice defense spells in hopes of preparing to defeat Voldemort,” he spoke clearly as he read, “and because our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher wasn't teaching us.” He looked up then, making eye contact with the head wizard, who looked a bit galled. 

“(Y/N) was a part of that group, along with her friend, even though they were both in Slytherin and many of their housemates were getting special treatment. Many people in her house ostracized her, but she kept coming. And she didn’t give us up, even when she was tortured.”

The head wizard paused. “Tortured?”

Neville looked up from his parchment. “Yes, sir.” He held up the back of his hand, where you could make out the scrawling scar of his handwriting. You held up your hand, too, and a couple of wizards leaned forward to get a good look. 

“I… where was I… well, she used to stand up for people, when we were younger. And I just don’t think she’s a bad person, despite everything.”

“Your testimony should be based on fact, not opinion.”

“Right. Well, at the end of Battle, while Harry was duelling Voldemort, I saw her - she stunned a Death Eater.”

“Switched sides when she knew the battle was won, if you ask me,” someone murmured. The head wizard banged his gavel. 

“I don’t think that’s true,” Neville said before he was escorted out of the courtroom. 

“And we have one more witness?”

You wheeled around again. Luna Lovegood walked through the door, wearing an absolutely absurd pink dress and her radish earrings. You couldn’t help but grin. 

“Please state your name for the record.”

“Luna Elizabeth Lovegood.”

“And your statement?”

Luna smiled pleasantly. She had no notes. 

“Well, I state that I think everything (Y/N) did wasn't for Voldemort, it was for Draco. She loves him, you see, well - the _Daily Prophet_ has been talking about it a lot, so you must have seen by now. Well, anyways, I never saw her do anything wrong. I think she was just lonely last year, because all her friends left her after she followed Draco. Only, when I was trapped in the basement of Malfoy Manor, she was very kind to me. We had a lovely conversation, I wish I could recall what we talked about, but the Death Eaters were very angry about it.”

You couldn’t help but grin as Luna talked. The Wizengamot looked properly confused. 

Luna soldiered on in her lilting tones. “Well, I think - really, her Patronus explains it all. It’s a leopard, you know, very independent creature, and they don’t travel in packs. They live in pairs, mostly. It would be very hard to give up a mate, of course, so I don’t think it’s so curious after all that she followed Draco that night.”

The defense called no more witnesses, and you sat in silence as the Wizengamot retired to decide your fate. You supposed you should be nervous about the results - and you were almost sick to your stomach. But you couldn’t keep the grin off your face as you thought about Luna’s convoluted testimony. 

In the end, you were acquitted by an incredibly small margin, but acquitted all the same. You left your courtroom to see Draco leaving his. He turned around so that you could see his hands were free. No handcuffs. 

You ran to him immediately, ignoring the flashing cameras around you. 

“You’re off?” You whispered into his ear as you threw your arms around him. 

“Yeah. Potter spoke for me. You?”

“Yeah. _Potter_ spoke for you?”

Draco shook his head. “Yeah, he did.”

You laughed. “Luna Lovegood spoke for me. You would have been highly entertained.”

Then you kissed, and felt the cameras going off all around you, and you could already anticipate tomorrow's headlines and the amount of people who would consider it in poor taste to kiss each other after both being acquitted of war crimes. 

But it was the first time you had seen him in a month, and, to put it frankly, you didn’t care. 

_________________________________

Tracey’s funeral was a quiet Wednesday morning. You were wearing a nice green dress - everyone had been instructed to wear her favorite color. A Slytherin through and through. 

She was being buried in a meadow outside Hogsmeade with most of the other people who had died in the battle, but her service was being held at her parents’ little house up North. It was freezing cold, but you couldn’t help but feel warm surrounded by so many people who loved her. 

That was one thing Tracey had always been - warm. Her happiness had been a pleasant comfort, her anger scalding hot. Sadie was a mess, leaning on Simon so that she could keep standing up. 

She had returned from Sweden with her parents the week after the battle. They had been so deep in hiding that she couldn’t even chance writing letters to you. Needless to say, Simon was beside himself with joy upon seeing her. 

“To think,” he had mused, “I thought I was going to have to start over with someone new.”

Sadie had punched him in the arm. “As if you could.”

Then the time had come where she had wondered after Tracey, and you had had to explain to her that Tracey wasn't around anymore. If moving on was hard for the rest of you, it was thousands of times harder for Sadie. 

She had seen Tracey for the last time in the shadow of sixth year and hadn’t even known it would be the last time. Watching Tracey get killed was one of the most traumatic moments of your life, but at least it carried with it some sort of closure. 

For Sadie, the funeral was the only closure she would get. She curled into Simon’s chest, her shoulders shaking as people came up one by one to speak on the impact Tracey had had on their lives. You weren’t surprised to see how many people had come. 

Draco and Michael Corner had gotten to talking - they were quietly very similar, and you and Sebastian visited with Tracey’s parents for a while after the service was over. 

“If you don’t want to talk about her -” Sebastian had started, but they shook their heads. 

“No,” her mother had said, “I want to talk about her forever. Tell me stories.”

Sebastian was nothing if not a good storyteller, and immediately launched into his repertoire. By the end of his recall of Tracey’s dancing at the Yule Ball, you found yourself smiling, and were glad to see her parents smiling, too. 

“FORMER DEATH EATERS ATTEND MURDERED STUDENT’S FUNERAL,” proclaimed the _Daily Prophet_ the next day, along with a giant picture of you and Draco holding hands as you left Tracey’s parents’ house. Next to that was a tiny portrait of Tracey. You crumpled the paper up. 

They would never know. They would never understand.

_________________________________

You brought your mother and father along to the Manor for tea, and Narcissa met you at the door. She was wearing white, looking a little worse for the wear, but your mother grabbed her hand immediately and started into an absolute tirade of thank yous and _I’m so gratefuls_ for letting you stay at the Manor. 

You had made your father swear not to badmouth Lucius, and his strategy to avoid doing so seemed to be centered around not speaking at all. You made your way through the living room, out to one of the gardens, where a little glass structure shaded a patio. 

Tea was already set out. You say next to Draco, barely noticing his presence as you watched your parents and Narcissa with hawk eyes, willing them to get along. 

And, somehow, they did. After your mother finished profusely thanking Narcissa, she launched into a different tirade, complaining about some Ministry practice, and Narcissa agreed immediately. The two continued to complain about it for so long that you forgot what they were talking about in the first place, but at least they were connecting over something. 

Draco tapped your leg after a while. 

“Mother,” he asked, “Would you please excuse (Y/N) and I?”

Narcissa looked up and nodded. “Of course.”

Draco took your arm, and you followed him out of the room, overhearing your mother saying something about _such good manners_ as you walked further into the gardens. 

“Seems to be going well,” you observed, and he nodded. 

There was a moment of silence. When he spoke, the words came quickly, as if he had been thinking about them for a while and was forcing himself to say them now. 

“I don’t want to live here.”

You looked up at him, and he met your eyes. 

“Where do you want to live?” You asked.

“With you.”

“At my mum and dad’s?”

He chuckled. “No,” he said, “Just us. If that’s alright.”

You nodded, a smile playing at the corner of your lips. “What, you don’t like my parents?”

“No, not that! I just - well, I -”

“Yeah,” you cut him off, “Just us is alright.”

When you returned to the patio, your father was roaring with laughter, Narcissa was smiling, and your mother was blushing. You had no desire to know what they were talking about, but the fact that your father was laughing that hard definitely meant he had come around. 

You grabbed Draco’s hand as you sat down.

_________________________________

“Holy _shit,”_ you said. It was all you could think to say. 

“I know,” Draco said, “It isn’t perfect, but I just thought… I mean, I thought you might like it, being close to the city, but there’s still a little yard and everything…”

You looked up at him, surprised to see that he looked a bit uncertain when you could hardly keep the grin off your face. You had no idea a house like this existed - just outside of London, but with a yard that could hardly qualify as ‘little.’

He smiled at the look on your face. “You like it?”

You nodded, unlocking the door and moving inside. A pan was washing itself in the sink. The floor was as dark as the floor at Malfoy Manor, polished wood, but the walls were a bright white. It looked more like a home. 

You were seized by a desire to open all the windows, to let the light pour in. 

“I love it,” you said. 

He grinned. “I thought you would. There are servants’ quarters out back, but I know you don’t want - I thought we might turn it into a guesthouse. In case Sebastian and Sadie and Simon and them want to come stay -”

You kissed him. There was nothing else to do. 

“So you really like it?” He said as soon as you broke apart.

“Are you dense?” You answered, “What the fuck does it look like?”

You scanned the house again, already imagining where the couches might go, where there might be room for a big dining room table - not like the one at Malfoy Manor, more cozy. You grabbed his hand as you wandered through the house, pausing to stare out of every single window. 

The staircase was convoluted and winding. You loved it. The master bedroom sat at the end of the hall, a big bed with little curtains hanging from the frame. The walls were mostly made of windows. There was a dresser sitting on the opposite wall, a curious shade of light green that reminded you of springtime. 

“So,” Draco said, “You wouldn’t mind if I already bought it?”

You whirled around, your jaw dropping. “You didn’t.”

He brought a bottle of firewhiskey out from seemingly nowhere, grinning. “I did. Shall we christen the house, then?”

“Did you happen to remember glasses?” You asked. 

_“Accio,”_ he said easily, and in no time a couple of crystal goblets were flying into your hands. Far too nice for firewhiskey, but you didn’t care. 

_________________________________

Sadie and Simon got there first, humming in admiration as they looked around your newly-furnished house. Seeing Sadie always sent a little thrill through you, even now, because you had gone a whole year without her. 

Sebastian arrived next, Meg Asterly in tow, and you gave him a hug and a look that plainly stated that he would need to explain everything to you later. He returned your hug and answered your look with a grin that told you everything you needed to know. 

“Good to see you again, Meg,” you said, unable to help the knowing smile on your face as you embraced her. 

Michael showed up next in a perfectly fitted coat that reminded you exactly how he and Draco had gotten to be friends so fast. 

Blaise and Pansy were up next. You had been in two minds about inviting them, but Pansy had been more civil to you lately. And anyways, watching the developing relationship between her and Blaise was entertainment enough for the whole evening. 

Pucey and Montague showed up late. Both were under oath to not talk about Quidditch for over ten minutes, but you were firmly operating under the impression that you would need to step in and stop them at some point. 

You and Draco had been cooking for a couple hours - well, really, you had been cooking for a few hours while Draco leaned against the counters, making suggestive comments and occasionally cutting up ingredients. It was fourth-year potions class all over again. 

“Looks delicious!” Sadie smiled as you set the food on the table. “But then, you were always a Potions prodigy.”

“Too true,” you said, sitting down. There was an awkward silence as everyone looked around at each other, not sure how to act in the company of such an odd group. 

“Well, go ahead, let’s eat,” you broke the silence, and Sebastian reacted so quickly that he flipped his spoon off the table. Simon snorted, and you and Sadie started laughing too, and it wasn't long until Draco joined in. Even Blaise cracked a smile. 

And nobody could argue with the strength of your cooking. It was practically guaranteed to bond people together. 

You chatted about what everyone was doing - you were starting Auror training next week, after an arduous clearance process to make sure you were no longer a Death Eater (though you hadn’t been in the first place).

Draco wasn't working - there was no reason for him to - but he had converted the basement into a working replica of the Potions classroom, and he swore he was finding a faster way to brew Felix Felicis. 

Blaise was working as a freelance Dark Magic consultant, travelling to old houses and breaking curses on old artifacts. He was basically a Gringotts Curse-breaker, but without the confines of having to follow Ministry rules. 

Pansy wasn't working either. Unlike Draco, she didn’t have a hobby to throw her life into, but she didn’t seem to care. She would be content with dressing up and going to galas until the day she died. You supposed it was a bit of a compliment that she had chosen to come to your little dinner party. 

Simon was training to be a curse-breaker, Sadie was training to be a healer, Sebastian was busy being a bachelor, Montague was assistant coaching for the Chudley Cannons, and Pucey was planning on going to the United States and taking the relatively small American Quidditch world by storm. 

Michael Corner was working at the Ministry, going through files of Wizarding families and trying to file their whereabouts after the war. It seemed like arduous work to you, but apparently there was something about safehouses involved, and once he and Draco got to talking about it there was no stopping them. 

Sadie and Simon brought dessert, which Sadie had enchanted to literally melt in your mouth. The conversation didn’t flow evenly - there were awkward moments of silence and stilted laughs at old inside jokes that only half the table got, but by the end of the evening there was a tentative joy in the air. 

Michael left first, off to go finish some filing work before the work week began, and Pucey and Montague followed him. You waved Sebastian off too, recognizing the look on his face and deciding that you would rather he and Meg apparate back to his apartment instead of excusing themselves to your bathroom. 

Blaise was off next, and Pansy stared at him as he left the house, causing you and Sadie to shoot each other a knowing look. 

Sadie and Simon begged to stay over, and you had already made up the guesthouse in anticipation that they would, so you sent them out. When you came back in, Draco and Pansy were hugging. 

When they broke apart, she was crying. 

Draco looked up and noticed you, holding up his finger to ask for a minute alone, so you went back outside for a second and stared up at the night sky. 

He came out and joined you after a little while. 

“Is she alright?” You asked.

“Yeah. It’s hard for her, you know - it’s hard for all of us, everyone who didn’t side with Potter during the war. They’ll never truly believe that we can be good. It’s just easier for us, you know, because we have each other. Pansy’s alone, really. She says that’s how she likes it, but…”

“She likes Blaise,” you said.

“Is it that obvious?”

You smiled. “Obvious to anyone with any semblance of emotional intelligence.”

He smiled back. “Fighting words. Let’s go upstairs.”

You nodded and took his hand, letting him pull you up and lead you back inside. The pots and pans were already washing themselves in the sink, and Sadie’s dessert had a freezing charm over it so that it could stay in the middle of the table. 

It really did feel like home. 

_________________________________

“I will,” you said, and a string of silver light shot out from your wand, wrapping itself around your hand. 

“I will,” Draco whispered back, and the same string of silver light wrapped around his. 

“Join hands,” the presiding wizard said, and you obeyed, biting your lip to try to control your grin. 

As soon as your fingers touched, the threads of light turned a brilliant gold, glowing brighter and brighter as you took each others’ hands fully. Draco’s thumb traced a little pattern on your palm. 

Sebastian, Sadie, and Simon stood behind you, and though you couldn’t see them, you could imagine the exact expressions on their faces - especially Sadie, who had never been to a wizarding wedding before. 

Behind Draco stood Blaise Zabini, looking stoic, Pansy Parkinson, wearing a tentative smile, and, to your neverending surprise, Michael Corner. He had been coming around to yours a lot lately - it had started out as a way to remember Tracey, and had morphed into a genuine friendship between him and Draco. 

In the crowd below, Narcissa and your mother sat in the front row, their hands clasped. Your father leaned back in his seat, a small smile playing on his lips as he fought the tears from his eyes. 

The sun shone overhead, and the Manor stood behind you. You had been unsure about having your wedding here, but Narcissa had asked, and now that the day was here, you were glad you had agreed. 

Now there would be a good memory here, unfettered by darkness. You could think of Draco’s home and think of this, the sun shining overhead, your light dress fluttering in the breeze, the white of Draco’s teeth as he smiled at you, the weight of his hands in yours. 

“You may kiss,” the presiding wizard said, and you must have leaned in at the speed of light. You heard Sebastian chuckling behind you. 

The gold light wrapping around your hands spread, climbing up your bodies like vines, circling around your shoulders, winding between your chests, bathing both of your faces in its glow. Draco’s hand came to your jaw, holding you in place. 

When you broke apart, the gold light was so strong that he was the only person you could see, his face blown out, shining. You threw your arms around him, and he wrapped his around your back, pulling you into him and lifting you up. 

By the time the light faded, everyone was on their feet. You grabbed his hand, walking down the aisle with such an uncontrollable grin on your face that you were afraid it might get stuck in a smile. 

Everyone raised their wands as he walked you back down the aisle, sparks shooting up, and the vines wrapped around the arch thickened, flowers blooming as you passed under it. 

Sadie and Simon followed you, Sebastian and Michael followed them, and Blaise and Pansy brought up the rear. 

The gardens had been enchanted so that every bit of grass you walked over sprouted little flowers, and you stared at them in awe as the sun started dipping below the horizon line, staining the windows of the Manor red, until it finally disappeared. 

Laughter and screams echoed across the yard, and the firewhiskey glowed a bright orange, and everyone danced, and sat out, and complained that the summer was too hot. 

Sebastian snuck off with one of Draco’s distant cousins at some point, a Beauxbatons girl who knew no English. Though you didn’t suppose they would be doing much talking. 

Your hair slowly fell out of its carefully constructed hairstyle until you had no choice but to take it down yourself. Simon whistled loudly, and Draco’s arms were around your waist, and a slow song came on. 

You leaned against his shoulder, feeling his hand on the back of your neck, and exhaled. You looked up to see Sadie and Simon doing some ridiculous imitation of a dip, your parents swaying slightly, Pansy and Blaise making eye contact with each other from the side of the tent then looking away. 

You danced with Michael, too, and he whispered in your ear that Tracey would have loved this. For some reason, it made you smile instead of making you sad, and you pulled apart from him to see that he was smiling, too. 

You danced with Sebastian when he got back from the bathroom. His shirt was buttoned in a strange zig-zag pattern, and his hair hung over his face at odd angles, and he kept stepping on your feet. It didn’t matter. 

You danced with Sadie when a faster song came on, jumping around, and caught Pansy eyeing you from the side of the room. You gestured her over, and she tentatively joined into your little circle, her gaze flicking back over to Blaise once in a while. 

“It’s a wedding, you know,” Sadie said to her after a while, “He’ll probably be in the mood.”

Pansy looked completely shocked. You laughed. 

You danced with your father, who whispered “I’m so proud of you” in your ear, and you hugged him tightly. 

And Draco danced with Narcissa, who was crying in a way only she could - she made tears look lovely, ladylike, beautiful. She put her arm on your shoulder at some point and whispered “thank you.”

As the moon hung high overhead, you all walked back into the garden, rejoining Draco, who placed his hand easily on the small of your back. 

_“Expecto Patronum,”_ you both whispered. 

The dragon and the leopard swam into the sky, their silvery-blue forms sending off sparks in the moonlight as they circled each other like they always did. You leaned into Draco’s shoulder as they pranced through the air, playing with each other, preening. 

They were so different. But you doubted anyone watching them right now could say that they weren’t meant to be together. 

_________________________________

You woke up in a cold sweat, gasping. For a second, you were still there - bent over in debilitating pain in the living room of Malfoy Manor, something carving into your back. Then his hands were on you. 

“It’s alright,” Draco said, his voice thick with sleep, and you leaned into him, burying your face into his chest. “The knife again?”

You nodded. He brought his finger up to your back, tracing the raised lines of your snake scar. He always did it. It was somehow soothing, as if his touch was taking all of the evil out of the scar. 

“It’s all over now,” he breathed, and you nodded. “It’s just us.”

“I know.”

You settled into him, your breathing returning to normal. It had become a routine between you - knowing how to comfort each other when one of you had a nightmare. The best way was just an easy touch, a couple of whispered comforts, deep breaths. You wondered if they would ever go away. 

_________________________________

The guards flanked you and Draco as you walked through the cell blocks. You kept your head down. Seeing the prisoners of Azkaban was not a particularly bright spot in your life. 

Unluckily, not meeting their eyes did nothing to dispel them from reaching out for you, their withered hands shaking as they tried to grab your arms, groaning in pain as the guards shot them with stinging hexes. 

Some of them yelled stuff at you, too. Half of it was unintelligible. The other half you would rather forget.

You never believed you would feel bad for Lucius Malfoy in your life. You supposed you didn’t, really - he got exactly what he deserved. It was more that you felt bad for him on behalf of Draco. 

He was so skinny and pale that he was barely recognizable. They hadn’t forced him to shave his head, but you couldn’t help thinking that he might have been better off if they had. As it was, his hair hung in greasy tangles, matted around his head. 

He was sporting a bit of a beard now, and the silvery-blond of his hair was streaked with the silvery-gray of being old. 

“Father,” Draco said, and the guards stepped back. Lucius was in his own cell block. His influence hadn’t been enough to keep him from Azkaban, but it had been enough to ensure he wouldn’t have to spend the rest of his life with his fellow prisoners who didn’t have as much money as he had. 

“Draco,” Lucius said, his voice weak and shaky. “And you’ve brought the (Y/L/N) girl.”

“We’re married, father,” Draco said. 

“Married?”

“I told you we would be last time I visited. The ceremony was in August.”

Lucius blinked. You couldn’t tell whether he had actually forgotten, whether he had just repressed the memory, or whether he was just pretending to have forgotten to make you feel inferior. 

“It was a nice day,” Draco said softly, “The weather was nice, I mean. And the ceremony - we had it at the Manor. Mother enchanted the grounds to grow flowers wherever we walked.”

Lucius was silent for a while. Draco’s shoulders dropped a little bit. 

But then, seemingly out of nowhere, Lucius spoke. “We had flowers where we walked at our wedding. Your mother’s mother performed the same charm for us.”

For the first time, Lucius’s eyes moved to you. You smiled at him for Draco’s sake, taking a step forward so that you were standing by Draco’s side. 

“My wife… approves of you?” He asked so quietly that you could barely hear it. His voice was so weak. You wondered if these visits were the only time he used it. If you and Draco stopped coming, would he forget how to speak?

“Yes, sir,” you said.

His gaze moved back to Draco. 

“What day was it?” He asked. 

“August 14th,” Draco answered. “It was hot, but it cooled off at night. The stars were beautiful - no clouds or anything.”

“Do you live together?”

“For some time now,” Draco said, his hand coming down to grab yours. “We have a house outside London.”

“You aren’t living at the Manor?”

“No, father… I - so many things happened there.”

Lucius stared at his son for a while, and Draco returned his gaze. Though your hand was still in his, you felt as though this was a moment just for them, like something was passing between them that you couldn’t quite understand. 

“How long has it been since you last came here?” Lucius asked.

“We - well, we came before the wedding. In July.”

“And it’s August now?” 

Draco looked a bit pained. “It’s the beginning of September.”

“Come more often,” Lucius said, his voice somehow reclaiming some of its old grandeur as he spoke. You supposed he was used to giving commands. He hadn’t quite forgotten how to do it yet. 

“I will,” Draco said back, “I’ll come more often.”

Secretly, you didn’t want to come more often. The atmosphere was claustrophobic, a reminder of everything horrible that had happened, everything that had led him to his imprisonment. His crimes, your crimes, the crimes of Lord Voldemort. The nightmares were always worse in the weeks following visits to Azkaban. 

You let them talk for a while. You were always silent on these visits, just there because you knew Draco didn’t want to go alone. 

One of the guards stepped forward, signalling that your time was up. Draco stepped back from the bars of Lucius’s cell, and you stepped back with him. 

“We’ll come soon, father,” Draco said, and Lucius nodded. 

As you turned to walk away, he spoke. 

“You don’t need to call me sir,” he said, and you knew he was talking to you. Usually, you would’ve assumed he was saying it to mock you, but he was speaking in a tone he had never used with you before. 

You looked up. Nodded. Then Draco squeezed your hand, one of the guards cleared their throat, and you left. 

_________________________________

You supposed you’d never be friends with Harry and Ron. That was reserved for a time long ago, before the war had taken shape, when you were dating Dean and playing with them in pickup Quidditch games.

But as you went through your drills for the morning, casual duels opposite each other, you were surprised to find that Harry was probably more accepting of you than most. 

You managed to block most of his spells, and you even got one through his own shields. He was a better wizard than you, there was no question about that, but you were holding your own, giving him a good fight. 

After drills were over, he nodded at you, a small smile on his face. 

And after that day, you were no longer wary of looking in his direction. You smiled at him and Ron when you passed them in the hallway, joked with them during drills, and even sat near their group at lunch once or twice. 

They asked you your opinion on current events, and you talked about Quidditch (they found your stories about Pucey’s reign in America particularly fun), and you complained about Kingsley Shacklebolt every once in a while when the morning drills got hard.

Neither of them would be a guest at your dinner parties, and you didn’t anticipate an invitation to his wedding with Ginny Weasley next month (which the _Prophet_ was absolutely raving about), but Harry and Ron seemed to finally see you for who you were. And you couldn’t ask for more than that. 

_________________________________

Sadie and Simon got married on the grounds of Simon’s family home in the middle of the night. Sebastian stood behind him, you stood behind Sadie, and the crowd looked on as they joined their hands and the strings of light connecting them glowed a brilliant gold. 

It was a small ceremony, but the drinks flowed, and everyone was dancing. There was a literal aura of joy around Sadie, a charm Simon had cast that made her glow a pale pink that extended to everyone she touched. She looked gorgeous. 

There was a table with honeysweets on it in the corner, and Draco tossed a couple into his mouth. 

Sebastian was with a new girl now. She was French, a Potioneer, and you reminded yourself to give him a good talking-to later, because you actually liked her quite a lot. 

They shot their Patronuses into the air - Sadie’s wolf and Simon’s nightjar. The bird circled the wolf, who ran after it, launching itself in the air in an attempt to catch its wings. 

“Just like us,” Simon quipped, “Sadie’s always going after me.”

Sadie punched him in the shoulder. “You’re daft. It was the other way around and you know it.”

They really were perfect for each other. 

_________________________________

Pucey was making a name for himself in the United States, but besides him, the usual crowd was gathered around your dining room table. 

Well, there were a few exceptions. Sebastian was alone this time - Meg had finally grown the balls to demand that he commit to her, and Sebastian, knowing himself, had promptly broken up with her. He was sad about it for a good couple days. Well, at least _one_ good day.

Michael had brought another girl with him. She was quiet but seemed nice. You couldn’t help comparing her to Tracey, and nobody could ever truly compare to Tracey, not really. You mostly ignored her presence, but you were careful not to be rude to her. It was a big deal, Michael moving on. He deserved it. 

Simon and Sadie were getting drunker by the minute - you had already set up the guesthouse for them earlier - and Sadie was now engaged in a whispered conversation with Pansy Parkinson, who looked shocked that Sadie was talking to her at all. 

You noticed that she and Blaise were sitting closer to each other this time.

Over the months, your dinner parties had gone from endearingly awkward to raucously fun. Even Blaise was in on the jokes now, and the entire table had gone into an uproar when he suggested that you invite Theo to the next one for the purposes of entertainment. 

You hugged goodbye to everyone as they left (besides Sadie and Simon, who were already retired to the guesthouse). Pansy wore a look of disbelief as you opened your arms to her, but when you broke apart, she was smiling slightly. 

Draco raised his eyebrows as she walked away.

“No longer fighting over me?”

You rolled your eyes. “Your ego needs to be checked.”

He grinned. “Then check it.”

_________________________________

It was a Tuesday morning, and you woke up feeling nothing short of hungover. Which was strange, because you hadn’t had a sip of alcohol since Saturday night. You rubbed your eyes, your stomach twisting. 

You squinted against the morning light pouring in through the window, bringing your hand up to shield your eyes. 

Your stomach flipped again, and you all but sprinted to the bathroom, managing, in a great stroke of luck, to puke into the toilet instead of the floor.

“What the fuck?” You heard Draco’s voice sound from the bedroom, still heavy with sleep. 

You groaned in answer.

“Are you sick?” He called. 

You turned around, about to call back to him, when the thought occurred to you. You did, in fact, feel extremely sick. And it was morning. Morning. Sickness. _Morning Sickness._

“Oh my god,” you whispered to yourself, running back into the bedroom before you could think about it. 

Draco sat up, rubbing his eyes. 

“Is that sick in your hair?” He asked. “Take a shower before you get back in bed.”

But you were already pushing the books on your bedside table aside, grabbing your wand triumphantly. Draco groaned. 

“A _Tergeo_ is not going to work if you’ve vomited into your own hair,” he said, “I’m serious, I won’t let you back in here until you’ve taken a shower.”

His words barely registered in your head as you pointed your wand at your stomach, trying to remember the charm that Madam Pomfrey had taught the all the girls in second-year in what had to be one of the most awkward meetings of your life. 

_“Infans Chorion,”_ you breathed, and heard Draco’s sharp intake of breath as you spoke. 

_“What?”_ He asked loudly, and you only had a second to wonder how on earth he knew what the spell did before your stomach was growing a light shade of lavender. 

A shade of lavender that Madam Pomfrey had burned into your brain second year - a shade of lavender you would be unlikely to ever forget about. 

You were pregnant. 

You looked up to see Draco, still bleary-eyed, stumbling out of bed, cutting the distance between you and hugging you tightly to him. He picked you up off the ground, his socks slipping on the floor slightly. 

He put you down. 

“Are you _serious?”_

You looked back at him, “I - the charm doesn’t lie -”

He kissed you deeply, then pulled away just as fast. “Wait, shit, you’ve just been sick.” He looked conflicted. “This better be the fastest shower of your life.”

You grinned. “Come with me?”

He considered it for a second, then grinned back. 

The water ran over your shoulders, as hot as the dial could go. Little rivulets ran down your body. Draco put his hands on your stomach, his hair wet and messy. As soon as you washed the shampoo out of your hair, he kissed you, his hand travelling to the back of your neck as always. 

His other hand, though, rested gently on your stomach, his thumb moving slightly over your belly button. 

Sadie and Simon were beside themselves when you sent your Patronus to tell them, and they had apparated outside your front door before your hair was even dry. 

Sebastian was soon to follow, insisting to anyone that would listen that he was going to be the godfather (he was), and Michael and Blaise came over for dinner. Everyone touched your stomach in awe, and you couldn’t keep the smile off your face - especially when Blaise excused himself to “get home to Pansy.”

You had lunch at the Manor the next day, and your parents came too, and there was more touching your stomach and tears from your mother and Narcissa. And your father, too, though he tried his best to hide it. 

Visiting Lucius was the hardest part. Azkaban hadn’t changed since the last time you were there - hands still reached out from cells, calling crude words out to you no matter how many Silencing Charms the guards attempted. 

Draco didn’t let go of your hand as you walked up to the bars of Lucius’s cell. 

“Father,” he said. 

“Draco,” Lucius replied, then, “(Y/N).”

It was the first time he had ever referred to you by name. You felt a bit of hope fluttering in your chest as Draco took a deep breath and launched into his well-rehearsed speech about your pregnancy. 

After he was done, Lucius’s gaze turned to you. You did your best to look the picture of confidence - shoulders back, head held high, small smile. You had learned that posture at the Manor.

“It is about time you had an heir,” Lucius said, and you looked to Draco, unsure if that was a good thing or not. 

“Understand, Father, that we won’t be raising our child at the Manor. We have -”

“Your son will continue the legacy of -”

Draco cut his father off. “Our son _or daughter_ will grow up at our home. There is no more Malfoy legacy, Father, you’ve seen to that. And if you want to meet your grandchild, well, then… you’ll have to accept it.”

You raised your eyebrows a little. You hadn’t heard that part of the speech. After a moment of silence, Lucius nodded. 

“Very well.”

You squeezed his hand gently as you left. He was no longer the boy who threatened to tell his father about every little misstep of his classmates. He hadn’t been for a long time now. 

_________________________________

Draco kept a strong grip on your hand as you walked through the rows of graves. Usually, you went with Sebastian, Sadie, and Simon, but they were all working today. Well, Simon and Sadie were working. Sebastian was in France.

You hadn’t planned on visiting Tracey, but you had been thinking about her all morning because of some earrings in a _Daily Prophet_ ad that looked like something she would adore. When it got like this, you tried to take your thoughts elsewhere, but today they wouldn’t budge. 

Draco took a break from whatever he was brewing, and you apparated to the meadow a couple miles from the Hogwarts grounds where everyone who had died in the battle was buried. 

Enchanted flowers of all different colors wrapped around the graves. A couple other people were knelt in front of headstones - you saw a flash of red hair and thought of Fred Weasley. How lonely it must be, to lose your other half. You leaned into Draco as you walked. 

Ivy wound up the sides of Tracey’s headstone, deep green leaves circling her name. Dainty white flowers hung from the vines. You missed her keenly in the strangest moments. 

You were wearing the earrings she had given you for Christmas in sixth year, the same ones she had worn to the Yule Ball and you had worn to Slughorn’s Christmas party. They looked almost like the flowers that hung off the ivy vines - glittering and graceful. 

She had been the first one of your friends to talk to you, the one who had kept your cat and took care of her when you were gone. After the battle, you couldn’t find Kaya anywhere. According to rumor, she was still wandering around the Slytherin common rooms, a sort of adopted stray who everyone fed. You thought she probably liked that. 

“I miss you,” you said to Tracey’s name, which was carved into the stone in her handwriting. A flourish on the Y. You remembered that handwriting in red ink all over your horrible Herbology essays. 

You leaned into Draco’s side, closing your eyes. Crabbe and Goyle didn’t have headstones here - they hadn’t been heroes, their bodies were never recovered. You wondered whether Draco was thinking of them all the same. For a while, they were the only people he had. 

A child ran through the rows, babbling - he couldn’t have been more than two years old, and his hair was already a bright blue. 

“Teddy!” A woman shouted, and you turned around to see an older woman with curly dark hair rushing after him. 

“Andromeda,” Draco said warmly, and she looked up at him. 

“Oh, hello,” She smiled, “Sorry, he’s - uncontrollable, really. Takes after his mother. Usually he’s at the Potters on Saturdays, but Harry’s working, so I thought I might take him to see his father and mother. Well, he doesn’t really understand, yet.”

She looked to you and saw the tears drying on your face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

You shook your head. “No,” you said, “It’s nice. Seeing some happiness.”

The woman smiled, nodded at Draco, then took off after the boy. 

“My aunt Andromeda,” Draco explained, “Her daughter and Lupin had a kid, but - well, you know. She takes care of him now, mostly.”

“That’s sad.”

“A lot of things are,” he said, and you nodded, allowing yourself to bask in the misery of the moment. Everyone had lost so much that some mornings you woke up and wondered how the world was still spinning at all. 

But the sun was shining, and the boy laughed as his grandmother scooped him into her arms. You wondered if your kid would be like that - happy and energetic. Or maybe they would be more like Draco, stoic and witty, or like Sadie, bubbly and smart.

Thinking about the possibilities sapped the sadness out of the air. If there could be joy here, you supposed, there could be joy anywhere. You smiled at Tracey’s name. 

You and Draco would probably always be the subject of scandalous headlines and think-pieces about “the morality of raising children in homes of former Death Eaters.” 

There might come a time where neither of you woke up in the middle of the night, sweating with the remnants of a nightmare in your eyes and the ghost of a scream on your lips. But if such a time did come, it would be so far in the future that you couldn’t imagine it. 

There would always be the terrible things, those things you can’t forget. 

But between the horrors of war, there were the moments between you and Draco - the fights, the apologies, the Prefects Bathroom and the Astronomy Tower and the Quidditch Pitch. There were the late nights in Sebastian and Simon’s room, walks along the bank of the Black Lake, accidentally falling asleep in the library. 

There were the dinner parties and the new house and the family visits, the potions brewing in the basement, your friends waking up in the guesthouse, the fact that you were almost done with Auror training. 

Yes, there would always be scars - the words on the back of your hand, the snake carved into your back, the mark still on Draco’s left forearm. The world would never forget them, and neither would you. 

But there would always be the good. And you wouldn’t forget that, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, time to get sentimental:
> 
> THANK YOU GUYS so much for sticking with me for these past three months!! it's been so fun writing this but the real joy comes from seeing your comments and what you think about the characters and situations. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it and that the ending lived up to your expectations! 
> 
> I've started writing something new and posted the first chapter of it today along with this! It's called 'tainted love' and obviously it's going to be a bit different than this, but all my sebastian lovers rest assured, he'll be in it :) 
> 
> I really do appreciate all of you so much! I hope I stuck the landing X


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